A Redhead, A Boss, and A Gibblet
by IluvMonkeys
Summary: After two years of battling inner demons Jethro is faced with a whole new dilemma when Jenny walks into NCIS as his new probie.Now they must work through the trials and tribulations of sharing a workspace as tempers flare and emotions run high,raising Kelly,and keeping their tumutulous past from their co-workers,and somewhere along the way,they realize just how much they still care
1. Chapter 1

_A/n: Oh, I've missed writing and you guys! So, here is the long, long overdue sequel to Redhead Next Door. The prologue to this one is actually the epilogue to the last one I suppose lol. I really do hope you like it as much as the last, or maybe even more? *wink wink*._

_xoxo-_

_ Monkeys :)_

* * *

"Gibbs!" the shrill, undoubtedly furious voice of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs' latest probie rang throughout his house followed by the resounding slam of the front door.

He looked up briefly from his task and rolled his eyes before returning to sanding his boat. Now, normally five week old probies didn't just barge into his house to yell at him, but this was no ordinary probie. No, the woman stomping-or as much of a stomp as one could manage in ridiculous high heels-down his steps was none other than Jennifer Shepard: his former lover and unfortunately, adopted mother to his child.

"_Gibbs_," she growled, lingering in the shadows at the foot of the basement stairs, and he exhaled heavily before turning to face her.

She stood there livid: her mouth set in a thin line, her eyes flashing, a piece of paper crumpled tightly in her left fist.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded, waving said paper in the air as she advanced on him; the dim lightof his work lamp illuminating her face.

"Looks like paper, Jen?" he murmured with uninterested inflection, turning his back to her once more to top off his mason jar of bourbon.

"Do not _mock_ me, Jethro," she snapped. "Why the _hell_ is your wife's lawyer subpoenaing me for _your_ divorce case?"

His mood took an immediate turn and he spun to face to her, his eyes meeting hers with rapt attention.

"What?" he demanded, snatching the paper from her. "Give me that."

His eyes flitted over the document, his grip tightening with every word. He was so angry at the other redhead that he hardly registered the one in front of him making a grab for his bottle of bourbon.

"She's crazy," he growled, throwing the subpoena to the ground.

"I won't argue with you there," Jenny muttered, raising the bottle slightly before taking a sip, her eyes on the white piece of paper as it floated to the ground deceptively innocent looking.

"She took my grandfather's watch. She's already trying to clean out my bank account. Now this?" he grumbled, speaking more to himself than Jenny.

"Mmm," she murmured, clearing a spot on his workbench before hopping up to sit on it.

He stopped , realizing that she wasn't really listening-not that he had expected her to be-and watched her turning his ring on her finger. Technically it was _her _ring, but he had bought it for her. She wore it on her right finger rather than her left, but he would know that ring anywhere. He noticed that she toyed with it when she wasn't thinking about it. Her eyes snapped up suddenly and he was pulled out of his thoughts.

"What?" she demanded, furrowing her brow self-consciously.

He raised a brow slightly and shrugged almost imperceptibly.

"Stop looking at me like that," she ordered though her lips turned up into something reminiscent of a smile.

They fell into a comfortable silence then: Jenny swinging her black pump on her foot in rhythm with the sound of Jethro's sanding, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Eventually, Jenny lost interest in watching her shoe swing like a pendulum and let it drop to the floor before hopping down and covering the few feet to the frame of his boat.

"What do you find so interesting about sanding this damn boat?" she muttered, reaching for a sander identical to his own.

In all the years she had spent in his house, she had refrained from venturing into his basement for the most part. She, for one had no desire to contract some God-awful disease.

"Put your shoes back on," he insisted, knowing full well how many rusty nails likely lied on the dirty floor just waiting to imbed themselves in her bare feet..

"I'll be fine," she brushed him off airily.

"Jen," he growled lowly in warning and she arched a brow indignantly.

She yelped in surprise when he dropped his sander and lifted her off her feet, setting her back on the workbench. He swiftly dropped to kneel in front of her and grabbed her left ankle and slid her feet onto her shoe before moving to her right, eyeing her pointedly.

"Honestly, Jethro," she sighed with feigned annoyance. "I have my shots. It is not my goal in life to die of tetanus. "

"No you don't," he replied immediately in a matter-of-fact tone as he moved to his feet.

"And how do you know?" she challenged petulantly, narrowing her eyes.

He smirked.

"You hate shots," he shot back, taking up his task of sanding once more. "Reason you get the flu every year."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxx

The next morning, Jethro walked into the bullpen carrying a cup of steaming Jamaican blend, his morning scowl on his face to see Jenny glaring at Burley who seemed to be enjoying being the bane of her existence that particular morning.

"Burley!" he snapped, and Stan jumped a mile, earning him a snicker from Jenny.

"Yeah, boss!" he replied promptly.

Gibbs grabbed his phone to check his messages.

"When you and Shepard are done playing grab-ass, maybe you might do some actual work."

"Boss! I wasn't…she was-" Stan sputtered, but Jenny slid out of her chair, making her way across the floor to Gibbs' desk.

"Aww, Gibbs, are you sad the other kids don't want to play with you?" she cooed patronizingly, and Gibbs glared up at her as her form cast a shadow across his desk.

"Don't you have something productive to do, Shepard?" he asked as she took a seat on the edge of his desk and started fiddling with the things there.

Eventually she started to agitate him and he stilled her hand, placing his over hers.

"Stop it," he growled, hanging up the phone. "Go harass Hodges for the results on the Tanner case."

"I'll be sure not to tell him it's for you. Apparently you're _mean_," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Pansy," Jethro muttered, and Jenny laughed before heading toward the elevators to do as she was asked.

When Jenny returned, Jethro was nowhere to be found. She glared at Stan for no other reason than shthe fact that she had an intense dislike for him, and proceeded to make her way towards Gibbs' desk.

"Where's Gibbs?" she asked, tossing the forensic results onto the aforementioned man's desk.

"Coffee," Decker and Burley replied simultaneously, keeping their eyes on their reports.

She shrugged and headed for her own desk. She took a seat and wrinkled her brow at the blinking red light on her phone indicating that she had a message. She grabbed it off its hook, punched in her code and listened for the impending message.

She eventually sighed, and placed the phone back on it's hook and stood from her chair before pulling her drawer open, pulling out her gun and badge. She placed them in their rightful places on her belt and knocked the drawer closed with her knee.

"Where are you going?" Burley demanded as she swung her blazer over her shoulders and slipped her arms into the sleeves.

"This great little place called none of your damn business," she snipped, smiling sweetly as she pulled her hair out of the collar. "Tell Gibbs I went for coffee if he asks," she added, directing the latter statement at Decker.

"You can't do that," Stan protested petulantly.

"Really? Because, I kind of thought that's exactly what I'm doing," she shot back sarcastically as she backed out of the bullpen before turning on her heel.

She laughed softly hearing Stan's voice again just before the elevator doors closed.

_"Can she do that?"_

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxx

Jenny kicked her car door shut forty minutes later, crossing her arms over her chest as the spring breeze whipped her loose hair. Her heels clicked against the asphalt as she made her way across the Georgetown Elementary parking lot.

She strode through the door of the front office, smiling at the plump looking secretary that greeted her.

"Hi, Jenny," the blonde greeted her sweetly. "Are you here to get Kelly?"

"Hey, Marge" Jenny replied with a cordial smile, resting her arms on the counter. "Yeah. The nurse called at work."

"Oh, yes, Kelly wasn't looking to well when she came in," the secretary recalled sympathetically. "She'll be just through there though," she added, pointing to the adjoining nurse's office.

Jenny thanked the woman and took the few steps to the other office, pushing the door open. When she walked in she was met by a small, mousy looking woman in purple scrubs.

"Are you Ms. Shepard?" the woman asked, and Jenny nodded.

"I am," she replied, and the nurse smiled moving to her feet.

The brunette crossed the room with Jenny at her heels.

"If you'll just sign her out here, you can take her home," the nurse said, handing Jenny a book of signatures and a pen. "Her fever was 101 about an hour ago and the poor thing was sick as a dog. If her fever gets any worse, I would say take her to the emergency room, but it looks like a case of the flu. The kids have been in and out of school with it for weeks. Give her plenty of fluids and let her get plenty of rest."

"Thank you," Jenny whispered so as not to wake Kelly as she lifted the small child into her arms.

The nurse looped Kelly's backpack over Jenny's arm and the redhead smiled in thanks before making her exit. Jenny mouthed a thank you to the blonde secretary and carried Kelly to the car.

She buckled the small brunette into her seatbelt, blowing several errant strands of red her hair out of her face. Kelly began to stir with a small moan, and Jenny cupped her face affectionately.

"Mmm, mommy, I don't feel good," Kelly murmured, barely opening her eyes, and Jenny eyed her sympathetically.

"I know, honey," Jenny assured her. "Go back to sleep. We're going home, okay?"

Kelly nodded and fell back into a fitful sleep.

Halfway to her house, Jenny's phone rang as she knew it would, and she rummaged through her purse while trying to keep her eyes on the road.

"Shepard," she answered as had become habit.

"_Where the hell are you, Shepard?_" Jethro barked through the phone.

"I got a call from Kelly's school. The nurse thinks she has the stomach flu. I'm taking her to my house now. Magda will stay with her," Jenny replied sparing the child a quick glance. "Your little minions think I'm going for coffee. I'll bring some back with me."

"_She okay?"_ he asked, his voice dropping to a much lower tone so as not to be overheard by Burley and Decker she assumed.

"She'll be fine," Jenny assured him. "Magda will have her back to school in no time."

"_Just get your ass back here, Shepard,"_ he snapped for appearances, and Jenny laughed.

"Yes, boss!" she replied teasingly, and he could practically hear the patronizing salute.

When Jenny did arrive back at NCIS headquarters, she carried a tray of coffee with her as promised. The elevator doors closed behind her with a mechanical whoosh and she rounded the corner into the bullpen.

"I brought coffee," she announced, making her presence known and set the tray of drinks on the edge of her desk before tossing her car keys there as well.

"There's only three," Stan, said, hesitating.

"Oh, Burley, you learned to count," she mocked him, and he glared before snatching one of the cups out of the tray. "Gibbs doesn't get one," she said, eyeing the man in question pointedly.

"Did I tell you that you could get coffee?" Jethro asked in response, and she raised a brow reproachfully.

"I wasn't aware I had to ask permission," she replied, wrapping her fingers around her own cup of coffee. "You went for coffee, and you never offer to bring me back any, or any of us for that matter."

Both Decker and Burley cleared their throats, ducking their heads, a clear message of, 'don't bring me into this.'

"It's very inconsiderate, Gibbs," she continued. "We _all_ need caffeine once in a while. I would have brought _you_ a cup if you hadn't already gone for one."

She smirked, a gleam of wicked amusement in her eyes, and took a sip from her cup.

"Conference room," he ground out, grabbing her by her arm, and she stumbled only slightly before going along with him.

He stood to the side, allowing her to go in before him-ever the gentleman-and she rolled her eyes before doing so. He slid in behind her and flipped the emergency switch.

"She alright?" he asked, referring to his daughter, and Jenny nodded leaning against the wall of the elevator.

"Sleeping," she replied, holding out her coffee in offering, but rolled her eyes when he grimaced at the idea of cream and sugar.

He nodded in satisfaction and flipped the elevator back on, and as they stepped out he leaned in close as he strode past her, a triumphant smirk on his face.

"You do_ ask permission to get coffee."_

She caught up to him, grinning as they walked into the bullpen.

"You're enjoying this _boss_ thing far too much."

* * *

Jenny finally made it home around seven: an early night for Gibbs' team, but none of them had been complaining. Said man was at her heels as his reason for letting his team go early laid in her home, likely sleeping.

Jenny slid her key into the lock and pushed the door open, stepping inside while Jethro stood aside before following behind her and shutting the door. Magda appeared in the hallway with a curious look on her face.

"Jenny, you are home early," she observed, question hanging in the air. "And with Senor Gibbs," she finished with a little distaste.

Magda never had quite re-warmed to Jethro after the incident nearly two years prior.

"Magda, please," Jenny sighed, sending the older woman a pleading look.

"Kelly is in her room," Magda said, wringing her hands on a dishtowel, knowing the next words out of Jenny's mouth would be questions regarding the brunette's wellbeing. "She has been sleeping for a few hours."

"Thank you, Magda," Jenny said gratefully. "You can go now. I'll take it from here."

She and her beloved housekeeper had argued too many times over Jenny's continued relationship with Jethro, but Jenny respected the older Puerto Rican as a mother, and simply made it a point to have Magda and Jethro spend as little time together as possible.

Magda nodded and returned to the kitchen temporarily, presumably to set the dish towel down, and reappeared in the foyer within moments. She grabbed her coat, and kissed Jenny on both cheeks, murmuring a warm good-bye before sliding her coat over her arms. As if it were a last minute thought she turned to Jethro.

"Senor Gibbs," Magda bade him cordially.

"Goodnight," Gibbs offered a bit awkwardly with a respectful nod, and Magda made her exit.

"She doesn't like me much does she?" he muttered once the older woman had shut the door.

Jenny smiled softly as they climbed the stairs.

"She's just protective is all," Jenny murmured as they made their way down the hall to Kelly's room.

Jenny pushed Kelly's door open gently, grimacing at the squeak the door made. She had been meaning to fix that. She squatted beside Kelly's bed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind the child's ear, and smiled, glad to see the brunette sleeping peacefully.

"I'll be in my room," Jenny whispered as she stood, her hand brushing his arm briefly before she left the room, pulling the door closed slightly behind her.

Jethro stooped to kiss his daughter's forehead briefly before, standing once again to his full height. Kelly stirred slightly with a small moan, and blinked her eyes slowly.

"Daddy?" she murmured sleepily.

"Yeah," he confirmed affectionately. "Go back to sleep, Kel. You stay with Jen tonight, okay?"

She nodded, and turned over, pulling her comforter tighter around herself.

Jethro slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him until it shut with a quiet 'click'. He hesitated in the hallway a moment before continuing down the hall toward Jenny's room. He knocked on the ajar door lightly, causing it to swing open a bit more.

"Come in," Jenny called softly, and he pushed it open, though he remained in the doorway.

She was dressed in her robe and her hair was pulled up on top of her head; by the warm smell of lavender and vanilla that reached his nose he assumed she was getting ready to take a bath.

"I'm heading out," he said. "Thanks for letting me stop by."

"Jethro, you know you're always welcome here," she said pointedly, leaning against her bedpost casually.

"It's alright if she just stays here tonight?" was his only reply, and she nodded.

"Of course it is," she assured him. "I hadn't even thought of moving her."

He nodded.

"Night, Jen," he offered, and she smiled if a little sadly.

"Good night, Jethro."

* * *

A/n: A decent start I hope. As always, reviews are much appreciated (especially with this one). Let me know what you think! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n: It's long. Oh dear lord it's long (lol), and you can probably expect to see more of them, maybe not quite as lengthy as this. Hope you enjoy nonetheless :)**

**xoxo-**

**Monkeys :)**

* * *

Gibbs stepped off the elevator, his salt and pepper hair plastered to his head with rain water and nearly collided with Stan Burley as the younger man came barreling around the corner, an eager grin on his face.

Gibbs exhaled in annoyance, settling Burley with a glare that would normally have the man cowering under his gaze, but whatever had the infamous prankster practically bouncing with glee was clearly too good for even a glare from Gibbs to ruin his mood.

"Boss," Burley acknowledged breathlessly, having the sense to at least _try_ to control his foolish grin. "Shepard."

Gibbs stepped off of the elevator allowing the doors to close behind him and, and eyed Burley with a raised brow, prompting him to give some sort of explanation regarding his behavior other than single word titles.

"Boss, Decker," Burley exclaimed, emphasizing his excitement with his open palmed hand gesture, and practically sparkling eyes.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, giving Stan a reproachful look. He was getting fed up with the 'name game.'

"Shepard hurled in autopsy," Stan finally blurted out, actually _bouncing_ on his toes.

For the past six weeks, ever since the petite red-head had been assigned to their team, it seemed she could do no wrong. Not once had Burley seen Shepard get _one_ head slap. To his annoyance, she had excelled at practically everything; and when she actually made some small mistake, Gibbs barely blinked.

This though, this she couldn't get out of. Observing an autopsy was the only thing she had yet to do, and Burley had a feeling she had been avoiding it. Finally, she had done something to warrant the wrath of Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Gibbs rolled his eyes.

He knew Jenny never had the stomach for anything involving blood. Apparently it 'made her skin crawl'. Nevertheless, he definitely hadn't expected her 'womanly sensitivities' to get in the way of her job.

"She contaminate something?" he demanded, and Stan furrowed his brow in thought before the insane joy was back again, perhaps more intense than before if that were possible.

"I don't know, boss. Decker was down there with her. He just called. I was goin' down to find out," Stan replied.

Now _that_ would take the cake. Contaminating _evidence_? She'd never live it down.

Gibbs let out an agitated huff and turned to jab the elevator button a little more forcefully than necessary. The doors opened with a 'ding' within moments, and the ex-Marine stepped back onto the lift. He held a hand out to stop Burley from following him and the younger man honestly looked as if someone had stolen his best friend and then hit his dog with a car.

"Go work," Gibbs ordered, pointing sharply toward the bullpen and Burley's shoulders slumped.

"Boss!" Stan protested in utter desolation, coming about as close to whining as any self-respecting man could.

"Work!" Gibbs snapped before the doors closed and the elevator began its descent.

When Gibbs strode into autopsy, the mechanic 'whoosh' of the doors behind him signaling his arrival, he caught the tail end of what had surely been a long-winded argument.

Jenny sat on an empty autopsy table, the harsh light of the morgue giving even her profile a ghostly cast.

"I'm _fine_, Dr. Mallard," Jenny insisted, though the dry bark of a cough that followed made her statement less than convincing.

"I'll be the judge of that, my dear," Donald Mallard admonished lightly, handing her a cup of steaming Earl Grey tea. "And please, call me Ducky."

Jenny managed a grateful smile, lifting the offered cup to her lips, the heat of the dark tea brushing her already flushed skin.

"Thank you, Dr…" she started ,but stopped and smiled slightly before remedying her statement. "Ducky."

Decker looked up from his place beside Jenny at the sound of Gibbs footfalls and both Jenny's and the doctor's eyes followed.

"Oh, Jesus," Jenny muttered, rolling her eyes in disdain at the sight of him.

Jethro, she could deal with; but _Gibbs, _with his no nonsense bark…that was the last thing she needed. Scratch that. _Gibbs_ would hardly bat an eyelash unless she had contaminated something, but _Jethro? _Oh, he'd probably worry her to death.

"She dyin', Duck?" Gibbs asked bluntly.

By the look of her, it could actually be considered a valid question.

Jenny actually risked meeting his gaze and she was surprised to say the least at what she found there: genuine concern. His posture was rigid as usual from years of standing at attention, and to anyone else he might look his normal self, but he certainly hadn't had the same concern in his eyes when Burley had come in sick three weeks ago. The feminist in her wanted to say it was because she was a woman and he was an old chauvinist, but she knew better than that.

"Well, Jethro I wouldn't go so far," Ducky murmured, cracking a smile at the younger man's crude humor. "Though she's in no state to be working. Ms. Shepard appears to have a nasty case of influenza."

"I am fine," Jenny insisted yet again, despite her watery eyes and the scarlet flush to her skin.

She knew she was far from fine. Her head ached, breathing through her nose was a notion level with clouds of cotton candy and unicorns, and she felt sick to her stomach even as she sat there, and there was no doubt that she should certainly be at home; but she'd be _damned_ if she would let any man in that room know that.

She handed the nearly empty tea cup to Ducky, and slid down off of the autopsy table, her vision crossing as she did so; but she blinked rapidly in an attempt to brush it off. Her slip did not go unnoticed by Ducky however, or Jethro for that matter.

"Jethro, someone really ought to take Ms. Shepard home," Ducky decided, eyeing the red-head warily.

Decker snorted at the notion that Gibbs would send anyone home for being sick-

"I'll take her," Gibbs said

-and his eyes bulged

"No one needs to drive me anywhere, because I'm not going anywhere," Jenny spoke up, enraged at the fact that they were speaking as if she were not there.

"Yeah, you are," Gibbs replied, eyeing her pointedly, and she narrowed her eyes.

"Gibbs," she growled lowly.

The last thing she wanted was special treatment from him. She got enough complaining about it from Burley. She didn't need concrete proof.

"You're sick," he stated matter-of-factly, and she glared at him balefully through her lashes.

"Thank you, Agent Obvious," she snapped, her voice breathy with sarcastic exaltation.

Gibbs fought the urge to roll his eyes as well. He had forgotten how snippy she got when she was sick.

"I don't need you contaminating any more evidence," he said instead.

"I didn't contaminate any evidence," she shot back, propping her hand on her hip.

"You want a job to come back to, Shepard?" he demanded testily, she glared at her balefully. "I don't need you getting anybody else sick. We're backed up enough on cases as it is."

He tugged her by her bicep and she forced to aversely oblige.

Decker watched them go curiously as Ducky made his way over to the cadaver he had covered for Jenny's benefit. There was _something_ about the way Shepard and Gibbs interacted. He knew for sure that he had never seen nor heard of Gibbs sending anyone home on a sick day, much less taking them home himself; but Gibbs was an old chauvinist, and women were few and far between at NCIS. Jenny Shepard was the first Decker had ever seen, and he was almost positive she was the first on Gibbs' team. Will hated to admit it, but he couldn't help but think that maybe the crap Burley spouted had some credibility.

There was no denying Jenny Shepard was attractive: with her long legs, big, green eyes, and fiery, red hair. She wasn't his type; not a blonde, but Jenny Shepard _was_ attractive. William Decker couldn't help but wonder if maybe Gibbs had noticed too.

"Hey Ducky, you think there's something going on there?" Decker asked absently, pointing to the path they had taken.

Ducky paused, his scalpel poised over their dead Marine's open chest, and turned to Decker with an air of amusement.

"William, I am not quite old enough to be a gossip," Ducky murmured in veiled admonition, and Decker chuckled sheepishly.

"What can you tell me, Ducky?" he asked, returning the conversation to their dead Petty Officer.

Meanwhile, Jenny and Jethro stood at opposite sides of the elevator per Jenny's doing.

He watched her warily while she grew increasingly flustered trying to ignore the fact that he was.

She closed her eyes and leaned against the back wall of the elevator with a sigh, her right arm wrapped tightly under her bust, massaging her left temple with the other hand. Suddenly, the elevator lurched taking her stomach with it, and her eyes shot open as the lights flashed off with a mechanical whir.

She inhaled through her nose and swallowed deliberately in an attempt to control her stomach function before sending Jethro a scathing glare.

"Damn it, Jethro, why do you _do _that?" she snapped, holding her palm to her turning stomach.

She had only been the reason for his brutal treatment of the elevator twice before, but she had since learned that he used it as his personal conference room.

"You're going to break the damn thing one day, and it's going to cost the agency an arm and a leg to fix," she muttered, her M.B.A. dictating her thoughts.

"What are you the Director now?" he demanded smarmily as he advanced on her. "Why are you here, Jen?"

"I work here," she sighed wittily.

"You're sick," he stated once again, and she rolled here eyes.

"Yes, Jethro that has been established," she snapped. "You had no qualms keeping Burley here when he was sick," she pointed out.

"_Burley_ was faking," Gibbs said. "He got over it over the weekend, and Burley had a cold; he didn't have the flu."

She kept her sour expression a moment before her features softened; semi-comfortable that he was not giving her any extreme special treatment.

"Take me home," she finally sighed in reluctant agreement, and he flipped the emergency switch, sending the elevator whirring back to life.

Burley looked up as the elevator doors opened with the customary 'ding' and Jenny stepped off, closely followed by Gibbs. He grinned impishly as the two of them walked into the bullpen and his gaze followed Jenny as she reached her desk and he narrowed his eyes as she grabbed her bag.

He felt rather than saw Gibbs coming before the steely ex-Marine's hand connected with the back of his head.

"Where you going, boss?" Burley asked as Gibbs continued past him, and grabbed his car keys from his desk drawer.

"Takin' Shepard home," Gibbs replied, looking up at said red-head who was waiting at the entrance of the bullpen.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx

Jethro drove up to Jenny's Georgetown town home, and turned to see that she had fallen asleep sometime during the drive there, and she was snoring softly with her mouth open, head resting against the car door. He smirked, and shifted the car into neutral and pulled the key out of the ignition before pushing his car door open, kicking it closed behind him and walking around to Jenny's side.

"Jen," he murmured, unhooking her seatbelt, but she kept on sleeping, and he hesitated a moment before grabbing her keys and her bag and scooped her into his arms.

She stirred slightly with a small moan before snuggling closer into his chest. He kicked the car door shut, and continued up the walkway to her door.

Halfway to her porch, the front door flew open, and Magda stood there wringing her hands, her brow furrowed in concern. The squat Puerto Rican woman came trotting down the walkway, fearing the worst.

"What has happened?" she demanded of Jethro, and he shook his head, waving off her concern.

"She's got the flu again. Probably got it from Kelly. Lost it in autopsy. To stubborn to stay home a day," he replied, and Magda visibly relaxed.

"I tell her, 'get the shot,'. She does not listen," she sighed, and Gibbs chuckled as they made their way up the porch steps. He stepped back , motioning for Magda to go ahead and she stepped in, but shut the door behind him.

She watched as he carried Jenny up the stairs, and she was reminded of better days. _Maybe _there was a chance that Jenny was right; 'he would rather die than hurt her again.'

Jethro attempted to get Jenny into her bed without waking her, but alas, he was unsuccessful and Jenny's eyes fluttered as she registered the smell of sawdust, and coffee: a smell she had long since come to associate with Jethro.

"Jethro," she murmured, leaning away from his chest to look up at him in confusion before looking around in bewilderment before she sighed and her shoulders relaxed as he set her on the bed gently, pulling her covers over her.

He made his way over to her chest of drawers and realized he no longer knew where she kept what.

"Which drawer?" he asked. "Pajamas," he clarified.

"Top left," she sighed, sniffling slightly as she hugged a second pillow to her.

He rifled through her drawer, searching for something comfortable, and smirked when he found a 'Stillwater High' sweatshirt he had been looking for since before they had split.

"Been looking for this," he announced, holding it up, and she opened one eye, a small smile gracing her lips before she rolled back over into her pillows.

"It's mine," she mumbled, fluffing the pillow under her head. "Don't you dare try to take it."

He laughed quietly, settling on a pair of flannel pajama pants and said sweatshirt. He shut the drawer and smirked at the sight of her: her loose red hair a stark contrast against the white pillowcase under her head, her nose as red as the hair.

"Jen, change clothes," he ordered, knowing she would hate having rumpled her work clothes, and she moaned, burying her face in her pillow.

"No," was the petulant answer she mumbled into her pillow.

"Be back to check on you later," he informed her, setting the clothes on the edge of the bed.

"Stop treating me like a wife, Jethro," she called after him, though a small smile graced her face at the thought that he cared enough to check up on her. "You should be treating me like an agent."

"You think I care if Diane is sick," he replied smartly. "Go to sleep, Jen."

He shut her door behind him and rounded the corner to the stairs. He jogged down them, finding Magda standing in the foyer. He slowed as he reached the foot of the stairs, feeling she had something to say.

The older woman spoke in broken, Spanish-accented English."

"You no hurt her anymore."

He was unsure if it was a statement, a demand, or a question; but his reply was the same regardless of how she meant it.

"No ma'am," he assured her, and she narrowed her dark eyes suspiciously a moment, assessing the pain in his blue ones before she nodded curtly.

"Good," she approved.

Magda knew first hand what kind of childhood Jenny had; she would go home and _cry_ after a day in the Shepard house at times. Jethro did not, and she would do anything she could to keep the red-head's adult life from being anything remotely close to that.

"Mrs. Cruz," he bid her farewell, nodding respectfully.

"Jethro," she returned the farewell, using his given name for the first time in years.

He smirked, pulling the door closed behind him and walked out into the mid-afternoon sunshine.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx

William Decker strode into the bullpen to see Stan Burley nearly dissolving into a conniption fit.

Stan looked up as his teammates shadow passed over his desk.

"He took her home," he whined. "She hurled in autopsy and he drove her home for a sick day!" He waved his hand angrily. "He'd _never _let us take a sick day. He made me stay last month," he remembered, jabbing his finger into his chest.

"You were faking it," Decker said unsympathetically, dropping into his chair.

"I was not!" Burley insisted before bringing the conversation back to Jenny Shepard, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and their allegedly undeniable relationship. "You can't tell me you don't see something going on," Stan practically yelled, his eyes bulging: his expression verging on insane.

"He's not saying anything," Gibbs voice broke into Stan's rant as the older man strode into the bullpen, greeting the back of Burley's head with the customary slap.

"Thanks boss," Burley winced, giving Decker a, 'what the hell' look for not warning him, and Decker shrugged.

"What do we have on the McCarthy case?" Gibbs demanded, tossing his badge and gun into his top drawer.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kelly Gibbs ran through the door of the large Georgetown town house she had come to call home a couple of hours later, slamming the large door shut behind her, and slung her backpack on the floor.

"Mom!" she called, running up the stairs, her feet thudding like a herd of elephants.

When Magda was not waiting for her, that meant that her mother was home.

She furrowed her brow in confusion at receiving no response, and ran to Jenny's room, throwing the door open.

"Mom!" she called brightly, smiling.

"Kelly, will you stop that God-forsaken racket?" Jenny snapped, wincing at the sudden, harsh light, and Kelly's face fell.

Jenny sighed heavily, sitting up in bed, squeezing her eyes shut at the effort to lift her pounding head. She reopened her eyes, and Kelly's shoes were the first thing she saw.

"And what did I tell you about your shoes?" Jenny demanded, her voice harsh. She had told Kelly time and time again to take her shoes off before she came in the house.

"I'm _sorry_," Kelly apologized quietly, her voice cracking, and Jenny immediately felt guilty.

"God," she muttered to herself. "No, no, I'm sorry," Jenny sighed. "I don't feel well, okay? I'm sorry I snapped."

Kelly nodded slowly, eyeing Jenny with large, uncertain eyes. Her mother had never spoken to her with such unwarranted anger. Her father, yes, but never Kelly. She was not sure she should give her what she had brought her.

"Go play in your room, Kelly. I don't want you to get sick again," Jenny murmured, her point punctuated by her rattling cough as she rested her head back on the pillow.

Kelly backed out of the room, shutting the door behind her and as she did so she heard the door open, and she peered over the banister to see Magda walking in the door with several bags of groceries. She ran down the stairs, to greet her with another of her bright smiles.

"Kelly, _niña_, how are you?" Magda asked, smiling at the young girl. "You had a good day at school?"

"Yes," Kelly agreed, nodding her head, her thick auburn hair swinging on her head.

"Do you want a snack?" Magda asked, and Kelly's eyes lit up.

"Yes, please," she confirmed, following Magda into the kitchen.

A thought dawned on Magda as she set the bags on the counter and she turned to Kelly, grimacing.

"Oh, you did not wake your _mama_ did you?" Magda asked, and Kelly dropped her eyes to the floor before looking back up at Magda imploringly.

"It was an accident," she insisted. "I didn't know she was sick. I wanted to show her the picture I drew."

Magda shrugged and waved it off. It was already done.

"She will forgive you," Magda assured her as she put a carton of orange juice in the refrigerator. "What do you want to eat?" she asked, and Kelly paused in thought.

"Pretzels and peanut butter," she decided, and Magda nodded. "You a drew a picture?" she asked as an afterthought, the child's words dawning on her.

"Mm-hmm," Kelly replied, nodding with a proud smile. "For art class. My teacher wants to put it in our school's show."

"Show me," Magda requested, and Kelly grinned and ran to her backpack before returning with the paper.

She set it on the counter in front of Magda with a pleased expression, and Magda bent over it to see it more clearly. It was not the average fourth grade picture she had expected to see.

"You did this?" she asked, sliding the realistic looking still life toward her, inspecting the advanced shading and the accuracy of the shadows.

Kelly nodded, and Magda met her gaze, smiling with surprised pride.

"This is very, very good," she praised. "Make sure to show your _mama_ when she is better."

When her father knocked on the door later that night, Kelly sat on the couch in her pink, Barbie nightgown watching her Beauty and the Beast VHS tape, a bowl of popcorn in her lap. Magda had put it in for her before she left for the night, and admonished her not to open the door for anyone other than her father.

Kelly hesitated, before she set he popcorn down and ran to the door.

"Who is it?" she called tentatively.

"It's Dad, Kel?" a gruff voice that sounded like her father's drifted from the other door.

Kelly moved to open the door, but stopped, remembering her mother's words about tricks strangers might play, and more relevantly her father's lecture only weeks ago when he had forgotten his key and she had let him into their house without question.

"How do I know it's you?" Kelly called, deliberately antagonizing her father.

"Kelly," Jethro sighed in exasperation. "Don't I sound like me?"

Kelly backed away from the door warily, just in case.

"That's what Mom and Ms. Grant said strangers would say," she called, putting on an air of fright.

"Kelly, let me in, and you can see that it's me," Jethro coaxed, cursing the fact that Jenny had changed the locks on her doors. It had damn near killed him when he realized it.

"No," she refused adamantly. "What's my favorite color? My daddy would know."

"Kel-!" he started, but sighed. He supposed he should be glad she was so careful. "Pink."

"When's my mom's birthday?" Kelly demanded, and Jethro growled low in his throat.

"September thirtieth," he called, realizing his mishap too late, having told her Shannon's rather than Jenny's.

Kelly gasped, her eyes widening in terror, realizing that her father had been right.

"Mom!" Kelly screamed, taking off for the steps.

Jenny appeared at the top of the steps having heard Kelly's distressed voice, and pulled her robe tighter around herself.

"Kelly?" she hissed, knitting her brows, squinting her eyes as they adjusted to the light. "What's wrong?" Jenny asked, holding her arms out to stop Kelly from colliding with her before hugging the child to her.

"There's someone at the door saying he's Daddy, but he said the wrong birthday," Kelly said, and Jenny gave her a small smile, rubbing her shoulder affectionately.

The redhead sighed, making her way down the rest of the steps with Kelly at her side; her long, silk robe moving around her ankles.

She stood on her toes to check the peephole Kelly was too short to reach, and Jethro was indeed standing on the porch looking particularly disgruntled. Jenny swung the door open, and Jethro's eyes widened slightly at seeing her out of bed.

He looked down at his daughter, who was looking up at her father indignantly from behind her mother's waist.

"You said the wrong birthday," she informed him pointedly.

"Yeah, I know," he assured her, actually managing to find humor in the situation.

"You did right, Kelly," Jenny assured her softly. "Go watch your movie."

"Better or worse?" Jethro asked as Kelly ran back into the living room, and Jenny looked up at him with heavy eyes.

"Go back to sleep, Jen," he said, and she sighed, nodding. "You eat today?" he asked, and she smiled at his thoughtfulness before shaking her head in the negative.

"Not hungry," she said.

"I'll make you some tea," he said, and she moved forward to kiss him on the cheek.

The last time he had been there to take care of her when she was sick she had pushed him away when he had tried to kiss her, insisting she did not want to get him sick. His reply had been that he 'didn't get sick'. She had realized that there had never been a time she _could _remember him being sick; and it stuck.

"Thank you," she murmured before turning to retreat back up the steps.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx

The morning sun set the horizon ablaze as Jethro strolled up Jenny's driveway, a cup of coffee in hand. The morning breeze ruffled his hair as he came to a stop in front of Jenny's heavy, oak door and lifted his fist to give it three sharp raps.

The door swung open within moments, revealing Magda there. She gave him the smallest of smiles and stepped back to allow him in.

Jethro walked into Jenny's house, shutting the door behind him as Magda called up the stairs to announce his presence.

Jenny was returning to work after being out for three days. He had never brought her car to her house, and so he was there to drive her to NCIS.

"Hi, Daddy," Kelly mumbled sleepily as she trudged past her father looking something like a zombie, heading for the kitchen.

"Hey, Kel," he laughed before looking up as Jenny appeared at the head of the stairs.

He raised a brow in question. They were supposed to be leaving, and her hair was still wet.

"I know, I know," she assured him, scrunching her curly hair with a towel. "I woke up late. I'm trying," she offered in lame explanation.

She ran down the stairs fifteen minutes later dressed in her usual dark slacks and a white, v-neck tee, whipping her towel off of her hair to reveal damp, red curls. She flipped her long hair to one side, scrunching it again with her hands, and braced herself against his arm as she stepped into her black pumps.

"Come on, I'll do my makeup in the car," she prompted, scoffing in annoyance at the sound of her lingering cough and they stepped out into the early morning sunlight.

She eyed his _single_ cup of coffee a minute before deftly plucking it out of his hand, and took a sip. He looked to her in bewildered outrage; more at the fact that she had managed to steal it than the fact that she was drinking it.

"Oh don't have a stroke," she teased, handing it back to him. "You don't get sick remember?" she reminded him mockingly. "That's absolutely awful by the way," she added, pulling a disgusted face as she pointed at the swill he called coffee.

He glared half-heartedly and she smirked, sliding into the passengers seat.

"Why do you straighten your hair?" Jethro asked seemingly out of the blue after nearly five minutes of sitting in the car in silence, and she paused in the application of her mascara to look over at him.

He was staring at the road so stoically she wasn't sure he had said anything, so she tilted her head in question.

"What?" she asked, furrowing her brows.

Since when had Jethro noticed the difference between her hair when it was straight or curly.

He turned to her briefly before looking back to the road.

"Your hair," he repeated. "Why do you straighten it all the time?"

"Because," she began slowly, narrowing her eyes in suspicion and curiosity. "I don't like leaving the house with wet hair every morning."

He grunted in what she assumed was understanding or acquiescence? She wasn't really sure. As she went back to her makeup, he spoke again.

"Like it better curly," he said gruffly.

She stared at him for the better part of the next thirty seconds, but that was all he said and she smiled in disbelief at the oddity of his expression.

As they drove into the Navy Yard, twenty minutes later, she realized they were driving past the NCIS building.

"Where are we going?" she inquired curiously.

"Shooting range," he replied, and she rolled her eyes.

She was a decent shot. Jethro had made sure of that; but she had no doubt she should be prepared for some sort of attempt at 'probie' hazing on Stan's part. Burley had informed her on her first day that it would put her on Gibbs' good side to bring him a cup of green tea with lemon; that it _calmed _him.

In her opinion, that was a very poor attempt at trickery. Leroy Jethro Gibbs did not look even _remotely_ like a man who drank green tea; and he certainly wouldn't add insult to injury with a _lemon slice_.

She had foiled nearly every attempt of his to get her on Gibbs' bad side for the simple fact that Jenny Shepard knew their boss much better than Stan Burley realized. Anything she did that the steely ex-Marine disliked was simply to deliberately antagonize him out of pure spite.

Stan Burley and Will Decker stood waiting when their boss drove up with Jenny Shepard in his passenger seat.

"He drove her to work," Burley hissed disbelievingly.

"Her car is still in the parking garage, Stan," Decker snapped irritably, setting his NCIS cap on his head, squinting at the rising sun.

It was too early for Stan Burley's Shepard-Gibbs conspiracy theory.

The subjects of said conspiracy theory stepped out of their respective sides of the car, Jenny twisting her hair into a quick bun and wrapping a hair tie around it at the back of her head.

"Isn't the shooting range that way?" Jenny asked, pointing in the opposite direction of where they were headed.

"Got to buy ammo," Burley reminded her, pointing out the obvious. He had forgotten just how new she was. "How'd you get your hair like that?" he asked, stepping back to look at the damp waves created by the tension of her bun in curiosity.

Her mouth dropped in outrage at his previous statement, and then she shut it promptly as his latter registered; and she did a double take, caught off guard by the inquiry into her hair for the second time that morning.

"What?" she demanded, her voice pitched in disbelief. "DNA," she replied smartly.

Why was everyone suddenly so interested in her hair?

"And what do you mean,_ buy_ ammo?" she demanded in disbelieving outrage. "We have to buy our own ammo to practice on the range? We're federal agents."

"Well, we're federal agents," Burley pointed out smugly with a grin to match, motioning to the three men in the group. "You're a _probationary _agent."

Jenny glared, and shoved her palm against his head, resulting in a much more violent slap.

"Hey!" he snapped, smacking her hand away and rubbed the side of his head with a disgruntled look. "What's the big deal, anyway?" he muttered, referring to the ammo. "It's cheap."

"That is beside the point," she insisted, continuing her rant. "There _has _to be room in the NCIS budget for providing ammunition to their agents; or at least their should be."

"Well, maybe you should take that up with the Director, Red," he taunted.

"_What_ did I tell you about calling me that, Stanley," she barked, and Stan backed off but smirked.

"Damn Shep, you sound a little too much like my mom there. You sure you don't have kids?"

"Hey!" Gibbs snapped, and Burley jumped, turning to face him.

Gibbs motioned toward the empty spot at the counter. Jenny met his eyes briefly, and he knew he had overreacted slightly.

"Hey, you got my lunch last week. I'll get yours for you, Jenny" Decker offered, holding his hand out for her gun, and Jenny eyed him warily. "Hey come on, I'm not Burley," he coaxed, grinning teasingly and she handed her gun over slowly.

"Thanks," she murmured slowly, still watching him skeptically.

"Think she can shoot?" Decker asked of Burley as they walked behind her five minutes later, Gibbs in front of all of them.

Burley shrugged, then grinned impishly.

"Want to screw with her?" he suggested, and Decker grinned.

Ten minutes later, Burley, Decker, and Jenny were lined up in that respective order on the outdoor range.

Jenny knew she was being scrutinized, and held her gun up, lining it up with the target, focusing on it, preparing herself for the recoil of the gun. She steadied her hand over the trigger, pulled it confidently, and-

-nothing.

She tried again, and once more; but all she got was an incessant clicking.

"What the hell-" she muttered, but broke off at the distinct sound of…snickering; _Burley an Decker's _snickering.

She lowered her gun, and squared her shoulders back. She turned slowly to glare at them, and they nearly doubled over laughing.

"Didn't want you to hurt anybody with that, Red," Burley laughed obnoxiously, and Jenny smiled sweetly.

"Give me your gun," she demanded, and he started to sober up.

"What?" he laughed at the absurdity of her request, but it was cut short when Gibbs' hand connected with the back of his head, and Burley pulled his gun from its holster to hand it over to her along with a new cartridge.

She loaded the gun forcefully and spun on her heel to fire two shots at the target. She took off at a confident stride toward the target with Gibbs, Decker, and Burley on her heels.

"You missed," Burley announced gleefully when they approached the target and there were no holes in the bulls-eye, but his face fell slightly when Jenny grinned triumphantly, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

"No, I didn't," she assured him, her gaze drifting down on the target, pointing with one perfectly manicured pinky finger, and all three men's gazes followed.

You didn't live practically married to a Marine Sniper for years and learn nothing.

There, in the crotch area of the target were two shots, and Burley's eyes bulged; Gibbs' eyes widened slightly in surprised amusement, and Decker nearly collapsed in a fit of laughter.

"Damn, Jenny," Stan muttered hoarsely, his expression excruciated.

She smirked, pointing his gun at him, and he tensed before she set the safety and turned it in her hand so that the butt of the gun face him and he snatched it for fear she might change her mind.

Gibbs grinned briefly, and Decker continued laughing, clapping Burley on the back sympathetically.

"Damn good shot," Gibbs praised, and Jenny looked up at him out of the corner of her eye with a satisfied smirk. "Do it again," he said. "Give me your phone," he ordered, and she furrowed her brow in confusion, but handed it over nonetheless.

Gibbs pulled a roll of tape from his jacket pocket-why on earth he just carried tape around in his pocket, she had no idea-and stuck her phone next to the chest of the target. He pointed where she had been standing when she took the previous shot, indicating for her to return there.

"Don't shoot it," he advised smugly, and her eyes bulged, her mouth dropping.

"Gibbs," she whispered in disbelief. "Jethro, you can't be serious."

He looked _very _serious.

"Jethro!" she shrieked, her voice raising an octave in rage. "That thing was _not _cheap!"

Being that she no longer had to deal with the goings on of a business that had an annual revenue of fairly decent amount, it wasn't exactly necessary, but it was convenient and she _liked_ her phone.

"Be a waste of money if you shot it," he said, and she nearly screamed.

He moved on to Burley, and the man eyed his boss warily. He snatched Burley's NCIS hat from his head, and Burley scrunched his face up in displeasure and Jenny was ironically reminded of Kelly.

"Oh, boss, come on boss. That's my favorite cap," Stan whined, but he hadn't heard the worst of it.

"Car keys," Gibbs demanded, and Jenny grinned when the infamous car fanatic reached into his pocket and fished his keys out before handing them over like he was selling his soul.

Gibbs taped the cap to the head of Stan's target, and taped the keys over the visor.

"Don't shoot it," he advised again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The noon sun was shining through the NCIS windows; and the commonplace click of fingers flying against keyboards, and the bustle of the agents moving about could be throughout the bullpen.

Jenny sat back in her chair, her black pump-clad feet propped up on her desk while she read through the latest article in Cosmopolitan. Her phone sat safely on her desk: no holes. Stan on the other hand, was looking particularly pitiful as he stared dejectedly at his car key which was bent at a right angle.

"Stop pouting, Burley," Jenny laughed softly, lowering her magazine only slightly to peer at him over it.

He slumped over to her desk and threw himself on his knees in front of her, holding his key up in both hands.

"Do you know what this is a key to?" he whispered pitifully, looking up at her with big eyes. "A 1956 Ford Mustang, perfectly restored, Candy Apple Red."

She knew. It was his pride and joy. He had saved practically his whole entire adult life for it. It was all he talked about half the time.

"Get a new key made, Stan," she laughed, flipping the page of her magazine,.

"It's not the same," he cried, throwing his head onto her lap theatrically, and she rolled her eyes. "Hold me," he squeaked.

"Get off of me Stan," she ordered, shoving him away though her eyes twinkled in amusement. "For God's sake it's not like the car is totaled." She grinned devilishly. "You'll just have to ride the metro for a few days."

He moved to his feet, glaring at her.

"You're a cruel woman, Shepard," he said, moping back to his desk, and she shook her head, smirking.

Stan burley was like the obnoxious, childish, _insufferable_ older brother who liked to put glue in your hair that she never had. She couldn't stand him 99.9 percent of the time, but the other one hundredth of a percent, they got along alright.

She flipped her magazine again, tilting her head in amused curiosity at the title glaring in block letters at the top of the page: 35 Things to Do to A Naked Man. Her eyes widened at number ten and she smirked at number twenty-two; she distinctly remembered that one being particularly interesting.

The elevator 'pinged' and Jenny nearly fell out of her chair as the man she had done said thing to rounded the corner.

Jethro cut his gaze to her, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as she shoved the magazine in her drawer, swinging her legs back onto the floor.

"Don't _do_ that, Gibbs!" she snapped breathlessly, and he eyed her skeptically.

"Don't read dirty magazines," he shot back knowingly, and she flushed bright red to her ears.

* * *

**A/n: Oh the inspiration childhood memories can bring...**

**And did you pick up on that hint about Jenny's childhood? Mhmmm…Next Tuesday. See you there ;)**

_S/n: I'm doing my stuff un-beta'd you guys as usual, but if any of you know a good one to recommend who can work with a one week updating time frame that would be awesome! So this is kind of a beta advertisement…I guess? I'm searching, but a lot of heads are better than mine :)_

_P.s. I know, I know, you're probably like "how many notes is she gonna write?!" but I just wanted to thank you all for the great reviews. I'm glad you all liked it. I'm trying for shout outs next week, I just didn't have the time this week :/, but I wanted to get the chapter up nonetheless because I promised Tuesdays :)_

_Ok, I'm done. Really. _


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, so this one is kind of long too. What can I say? My brain is like hopped up on sugar or something. _

_Well, anyway, big thanks to _**TeamCarlisleandEsme8, ParisNeverEnded, chris.c03, ncisgirl2389, josiemausconn, AzNeRd, jstapny, torontogirl12, lolaughoutloud123, left my heart in Paris, **_and_** alix33 :) **

_You guys are awesome, and you reviews defeintely made me smile and sent me to work on the next chapter faster lol._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

"Christ," Jenny moaned from her place on the floor behind her desk, rolling over onto her stomach to rest her forehead on her hands. "When are they going to fix this air conditioning?"

A light sheen of sweat coated her skin, her hair curly tresses tossed into a bun on top of her head. She had been at NCIS just under three months now; and in the middle of August, the air conditioning had stopped working. That had been three days ago, and it didn't look like there would be a change anytime soon.

"Why don't the windows open?" Burley demanded peevishly, though to no one in particular, whipping off his garish, Hawaiian print shirt, leaving him in a wife beater aside from his cargo shorts. "What idiot designs a building with windows that don't open?"

Decker strode into the bullpen, having returned from autopsy for only the umpteenth time that day. All three agents had spent the majority of their time taking turns volunteering to check on Ducky's progress in autopsy; even Jenny who usually avoided autopsy at all costs.

"Where's Shepard?" he asked of Burley, looking around in confusion with knit brows.

"Here," she muttered into her right arm, flinging the hand of the other up in the air like an elementary schoolgirl; and Decker's brows shot up.

"What the hell are you doing on the floor?" he asked, laughing at the normally sharp-tongued red-head who was all but passed out on the floor, and had been aberrantly docile all day.

"Heat rises," Gibbs answered for her knowingly as he walked in carrying a cup of coffee, and Jenny sent a silent thumbs up into the air from behind the desk.

She used to have an odd habit of sleeping on the floor whenever it got particularly hot in the house and when he had asked her about it, that had been her comical reply.

"Grab your gear," Gibbs ordered after checking his messages.

He stopped in front of Burley, and Stan eyed him warily, bracing himself for the impending head slap. Sure enough, Gibbs' hand connected with the crown of his skull before the older man continued toward the elevator with Jenny and Decker at his heels.

"Put a shirt on , Burley!" Gibbs snapped, and Stan looked after Jenny in disbelief: who was wearing far less clothing than he.

"Boss!" he protested, running to catch up with the rest of them. "What about Shepard. She's wearing freaking daisy dukes!"

"They're exercise shorts," she spoke up in disbelief. "At least I'm wearing an actual shirt," she grumbled childishly. "Where are we going?" she then asked of Gibbs as the elevator doors closed.

"Centreville."

"What, did some rich old lady whack her war hero husband?" she joked, in reference to the wealthy population of said suburb.

"Centerville, South Carolina," he clarified impassively, and all three agents turned to him in surprise as the elevator began its descent.

"Go home, pack for a week," Gibbs instructed as they stepped out into the parking garage. "Meet back here in two hours."

Subconsciously, all three men lingered until Jenny reached her car. Burley grinned when she slid into a silver, BMW convertible and the engine came to life.

"Nice car, Red," he called, grinning impishly as she approached them; her car just another indication of her alleged "trust fund baby" status.

She grinned, shaking her head good-naturedly as she slid her sunglasses over her eyes drove out of the garage.

Jenny fished her phone out of her purse, reasoning that Jethro had probably not had the foresight to make arrangements for Kelly yet. She was again reminded of just how much she loved her phone as she dialed Maddie's home number.

"_Hello," _Maddie's mother, Ellen's voice drifted through the phone.

"Ellie, hi," Jenny murmured, and the other woman's voice relaxed in to familiarity.

"Oh, Jenny, hi," she greeted warmly.

"I know it's such short notice," Jenny apologized, signaling her turn onto her street. "But would you mind taking Kelly for the week. Jethro and I have to go out of town on a case." She felt the need to add, "It's no problem if you can't. I could just ask Magda to stay."

"_No_," Ellen waved her off. _"Maddie will be ecstatic,"_ she laughed. _"You know I never thought I'd see the day you were a cop, and with Jethro too."_

Jenny laughed good-naturedly.

"You and me both," she agreed., pulling into her driveway. "Listen, I hate to cut this short, but I have to pack," Jenny offered regretfully.

"_Oh yeah, sure_," Ellen agreed. _"I'll talk to you later. Do you need me to get Kelly from school when I get Maddie?"_

"Yeah," Jenny confirmed. "Thanks again for this."

"_It's no problem, Jenny, really. We've been friends since the girls were in pre-school. Besides, it isn't like you haven't done the same for us," _Ellen reasoned.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

An hour after she arrived home, there was a knock at Jenny's door, but she kept packing assuming Magda would get it and deal with whoever it may be.

Sure enough, Magda had heard the door and wiped her hands on a dishtowel and sighed before walking to the front of the house. She caught sight of Jethro's familiar salt and pepper hair, and swung the door open, but paused in surprise at the other two: a blonde haired man with green eyes who was looking at her in disbelief, and a dark haired man with blue eyes who was simply grinning.

"Jesus, she has a housekeeper?" the blonde one muttered, and Magda smirked, raising a brow at Jethro.

Jenny was folding a green shirt to set in her bag, having put the door out of her mind when Magda's amused voice drifted up the stairs.

"Senora!" she called, and Jenny stood up abruptly, knitting her brows at the title. "You have visitors!"

Jenny tightened her robe, having first taken a shower when she reached home, and ventured out into the hallway with curiosity.

As she neared thehead of the steps, Magda's voice reached her ears, asking whoever had been at her door if they would like a drink. Then, she swore she heard…_Burley? _Jenny ran down the steps, nearly skidding around the corner to her kitchen and stopped in the doorway; bracing herself against the doorframe as she surveyed the scene before her, completely lost.

She finally cleared her throat as Magda set a glass of lemonade in front of Stan Burley and Will Decker, as Jethro already had a steaming cup of coffee in front of him-_typical. Even in the hottest month of the year, he was drinking the hottest drink in the world._

All eyes darted to her, and her brows shot up expectantly.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" she demanded, giving each of them a peevish glare. "All of you."

Burley looked up at Magda, grinning like a small child when she brought him a particularly appetizing looking sandwich: avocado BLT on toasted wheat, bursting with greens and red and purple from what appeared to be an onion.

"Thank you," he offered gratefully, and she smiled at him. He turned to Jenny, who was watching the entire scene play out in bewilderment. "I like your housekeeper, Shepard," he said, and he grinned impishly, his eyes on her as he bit into his sandwich. "Nice robe by the way. You cold or something?" he teased, grinning impishly, his eyes on her chest.

She looked down in horror and gasped as Gibbs' hand collided with the back of his head more forcefully than usual, and Stan winced. She lunged forward, baring her teeth and snatched the sandwich from him.

"Give me that," she bit out. "_Pig_," she scoffed, and looked up at her housekeeper. "Magda, stop feeding him."

"Hey!" he protested as she took an appreciative bite from said sandwich. "That was mine."

"_Was_ being the key word here, Stan," she shot back smugly. "My groceries."

She dropped into the seat across from Jethro ungracefully, and glared at Stan again for good measure before glancing at all of them.

"None of you ever answered my question," she reminded them pointedly. "Why are you in my house" -she checked her watch- "An hour before we agreed to meet at _NCIS_?"

"We all got there early," Stan volunteered nonchalantly. "Gibbs checked your personnel file, and got your address." he eyed the sandwich in her hand longingly. "Come on, Jenny, give me my sandwich back huh? I was only kidding. You know I love you," he coaxed, eyeing her hopefully.

"That so?" she murmured skeptically, but slid the plate across to him nonetheless.

"You want something, Senora?" Magda asked, laying on the loyal housekeeper act thick.

Jenny looked up at her to see the amusement shining in the older woman' eyes, and the red-head laughed, catching Burley's still bewildered expression.

"No Magda," she denied, grinning as she moved to her feet. "Stop messing with Stan's pretty little head," she cooed patronizingly, ruffling his hair as she walked by. "Well, you all can wait down here for an hour while I get ready," she said sweetly, and turned on her heel with a deliberate sway to her hips.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx

"Jesus, Shepard," Burley muttered, tossing Jenny's bag into the trunk with a heave. "What do you have in here, bricks?"

"Rocks," she shot back smartly with a teasing smirk, resting her hand on the hood of the car before sliding into the passenger's seat, and he rolled his eyes as he slammed the trunk closed.

Not half an hour into the drive, Stan looked over to see that Jenny had fallen asleep. He hesitated a moment, debating not if but _how_ to wake her. He grinned puckishly and looked back to the road briefly before turning back to her to let out an ogre's yell, Shrek coming to mind.

She jumped ten feet in the air, her eyes shooting open as she instinctually threw her hands up and her high pitched scream mingled with his before he trailed off into a fit of giddy laughter.

"Oh my _God_!" she yelled in both annoyance and disbelief at his sophomoric behavior before settling him with a glare, and shoved him in the shoulder though she was still attempting to calm her pounding heart rate. "You're an ass."

"You alright, Shep?" he snickered, looking back at her, and she set the tip of her three inch Steve Madden heel between his legs in response, meeting his fearful gaze with a dangerous smile.

"Burley, if you wake me up again I will jump like I just did, and you will _not_ be a happy man," she threatened viciously, eyeing her heel pointedly.

"Jesus, Red, you got some kind of thing against my family jewels?" he asked, but pulled puppy dog eyes at her. "Come on, Jenny," he whined like an eight year old child. "I'm bored."

"That sounds very much like a personal problem," she sighed sleepily, leaning back in her seat again.

"Come on, Red, play a game with me, huh?" he urged insistently, and she gave him the side-eye.

"What are we playing, Stanley?" she sighed, deliberately using his full name in retaliation for calling her _Red_.

He grinned, and she rolled her eyes. _He was entirely too excited about a road trip game._

"Like a cross between Banana and the License Plate Game," he said. "You get more points for the less common ones, and if you see a yellow car with a vanity plate, it's fifty points."

"This is so stupid," she muttered, but called out a New York license plate, pointing to it nonetheless. "How many is that?" she asked.

"Five," he decided before explaining his rationale. "We're further south, but it's a big state."

Forty-five minutes later, Gibbs and Decker stood at a gas pump at the mom and pop station they had pulled into when Stan and Jenny's car finally rolled in.

Jenny's door flew open and the irate red-head all but leapt out of the car, throwing the door shut behind her.

"You are _disgusting_!" she shouted, sending Burley a scathing glare over the hood of the car. Burley's angry comeback was lost in Jenny's sharp and incensed, "_Shut up!"_

She spun on her heel to meet Decker's confounded, light blue eyes, her emerald ones flashing.

"We're switching cars," she informed him, her tone leaving nothing up for debate. She threw her pointer finger at Stan. "If I sit in that car with that _insufferable_…"she stopped, taking an intentionally calming breath in through her nostrils before she spoke again though her words came out breathy with borderline insanity nonetheless. "I will _shoot_ him."

"Alright, Jenny," Will laughed, waving her down. "Calm down. We'll switch."

"Thank you," she sighed, her shoulders relaxing.

"Hey Burley!" Decker yelled over the divide, and the younger man looked up with a sour look, still harboring some of his animosity toward Jenny. "I'm driving." At Burley's look of protest, he reminded him, "Senior agent," pulling rank.

Ten minutes later, they were pulling out of the gas station, Jenny with Jethro, Burley with Decker.

"Where are we going again?" Jenny asked of Jethro, ripping the top of her Slim Jim with her teeth.

She realized he had not yet told them the specifics.

Jethro turned his head on the headrest to look to her briefly; she had released her hair from her hair tie, and kicked her heels off, her bright red painted toes on display with her bare feet propped up on the dashboard.

"Hickerman," he replied gruffly, returning his eyes to the road. "Some mental health home."

"What?" she demanded sharply, stopping her chewing abruptly; and he looked over at her again and knitted his brows slightly at seeing that she had gone pale, her green eyes large with something he couldn't quite place.

"Marine dropped dead visiting his sister," he elaborated. "Coroner found arsenic in his system."

"And we're going to what, interview all the patients?" she asked.

"That's usually how it goes," he responded mockingly, suspiciously.

_She knew this. She had been there nearly three months now._

"Jen, what's wrong?" he asked, but she shook her head, brushing him off.

"Nothing," she sighed, resuming chewing slowly though it tasted like cardboard to her now, and she could hardly bring herself to swallow as she turned to stare out the window.

"Jen," he persisted, but she was adamant.

"_Leave it_, Jethro," she ground out harsher than she intended.

"You sure there's nothin' you need to share with the class?" he asked, bristling at her tone, and she turned to him with a dark glare that sent even Leroy Jethro Gibbs to his corner.

_He had _never _seen a look like that on her face before. _Ever.

Oh, she had been angry with him plenty of times, and he had received all types of glares, but the look she had fixed him with was almost frightening. Behind that glare was a look akin to that of a cornered animal protecting her cubs, ready to fight. Jenny was protecting something. She was hiding something, and by that look he had the feeling she had been hiding it a long time.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When they finally reached South Carolina it was dark and they were resigned to spend the night at the hotel. In all honesty, they were all exhausted; the drive had been over seven hours.

Jenny had fallen asleep in the car not long after their tiff-she never had been able to stay awake on a car ride more than an hour-and she had had time to sleep it off. Jethro on the other hand had only had more time to stew.

Apparently Burley had been much more agreeable for Will, but nonetheless, both men were nearly dead on their feet as they traipsed into the modest hotel lobby: with its carpeted floors and warm colored walls.

"You two enjoy deciding who has to share a bed with Gibbs," Jenny murmured to Decker and Burley, at least having the decency to uphold an ounce of pity as she swiped one of the only two keys on the lobby counter.

She of course had been led to assume that two keys meant two rooms: one for the boys, one for the girls-or girl rather, upholding the old adage of her high school days.

_Though she distinctly remembered that being taken as a suggestion._

She turned on her heel with the intent of going up to her room to take a very hot shower and crawl into bed. Her dreams were dashed however, when Gibbs grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back, and grabbed the key from her.

"Two agents to a room," he said, and she narrowed her eyes.

"What do you mean two agents to a room?" she demanded, and his expression told her all she needed to know. She scoffed in disbelief. "So, NCIS can make me sit through some workshop for 'Sensitivity to Women' even though I _am _a woman, but they can't give me my own room to sleep in?"

She huffed, and turned to Burley and Decker, who both had their fingers on the tips of their noses in a juvenile fashion.

"Oh, don't even," she muttered, and Burley held his left fist out on his right palm.

"Rock, paper, scissors for it. Loser plays Deck. Two winners share a room."

She sighed and held her hand out in acquiescence and they pounded their fists on their hands three times before revealing their choices: Jenny scissors, Burley rock.

She huffed in annoyance, but simply turned to Decker and waved him on to hurry up. They repeated the same sequence, and once again to her dismay, Jenny lost.

She was resigned to turn to Jethro, scrunching her nose at him unhappily.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The room was spacious and looked comfortable enough. There was one queen sized bed against the center of the back wall, a wall lamp on either side of it, there was an armchair by the moderately sized window, and the closest provided more than enough space for both of their clothes.

"You take the bed," Gibbs murmured gruffly as he set her suitcase against the wall, tossing his duffle bag to the floor.

"And where will you sleep? The chair?" she quipped skeptically looking up at him briefly before kneeling to grab her robe from her bag. At his lack of a witty response she realized he had been planning to do just that, and she looked up at him disbelievingly. "Honestly, Jethro you can't be serious," she sighed, scoffing in amusement.

"Didn't want to make you _uncomfortable_, Jen" he said patronizingly, though she heard the truth behind his words.

"Oh please," tying her robe at the waist. "We've done much more than _sleep _in a bed together, Jethro," she reminded him suggestively, taking devilish delight in his glare as she stepped out of her pants and slid her arms out of her tank under her robe before pulling it over her head.

"Don't try to be a martyr," she called over her shoulder as she retreated into the bathroom. "Sleep in the bed." She paused in the doorway. "I'd rather not hear you whining about your senior citizen aches and pains all day tomorrow."

"Not a senior citizen!" he called in fierce protest as she shut the door, but he cracked a smile in amusement despite himself and flopped onto the bed as the sound of the shower met his ears.

Jenny walked out of the bathroom into a dark room twenty minutes later, the steam of the shower rushing out behind her towel-clad form. She tipped around the room to her bag, careful not to wake the sleeping man in the bed. She cringed as she pulled the zipper on her suitcase, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. She grabbed an oversized shirt and slid it over her head, allowing her towel to hit the floor.

She approached the bed, rolling her eyes at Jethro's choice to sleep _on_ the covers rather than under them as she snatched the extra pillow off the bed to toss it on the floor. She stopped abruptly just as she moved to crawl into bed, realizing that the last time she had shared a bed, or a room for that matter, with Jethro had been that night two years ago.

She was disturbed and angry and _sad_ that the thought of doing so again scared her; but she merely inhaled deeply, and shook herself both mentally and physically before easing onto the bed beside him. She laid in bed motionless for minutes before she cast him a furtive glance and then stared back up at the ceiling in agitation, chiding herself for her ridiculous behavior.

_But maybe it wasn't so ridiculous._

She cast that thought from her mind and forced herself to shut her eyes only to find that her mind would be riddled by the insane dread of falling asleep next to him for fear that she would be woken the same as last time. She rolled her head to the side to look at him again and jumped with a frightened gasp.

He was staring right _at _her, his piercing, blue eyes wide open where they had been hidden behind closed lids only minutes ago.

"_God_, Jethro," she whispered breathlessly, her heart hammering in her chest, feeling as if she had just looked out of her window in the middle of the night to see someone staring back at her. "I thought you were _asleep_."

"I was," he drawled, his voice still thick with sleep. "Why aren't you?" he asked. "Asleep," he added for clarification, and she sighed heavily.

She had woken him the moment she opened the bathroom door. His time in the Marines had fine tuned his senses so that he woke at the drop of a pen in a silent room.

"Can't sleep," she muttered dejectedly.

"Yeah," he drawled, his tone full of mocking omniscience; and she rolled her eyes good naturedly. He stared at her a moment while her eyes continued to roam over the ceiling. "What's wrong?" he asked finally.

"Nothing," she whispered unconvincingly, shaking her head with a weak smile.

"Jen," he prodded.

He knew her well enough to know that if she were laying awake at night, something was wrong. When she had something on her mind she would lay awake all night or wake in the middle of the night and walk around doing mundane tasks.

"Don't worry about it," she waved him off, but he resituated himself to eye her pointedly and she sighed heavily, turning on her side to look up at him with her hand under her cheek.

"I _can't_ sleep," she stressed again, her voice breaking slightly, her eyes boring into his imploringly, shining with emotion.

She wanted him to understand the words she couldn't bring herself to say for knowing they would tear him apart, but she saw it in his eyes the moment he realized it for himself.

She was _scared._

"Jenny," he murmured, the realization strangling his words. "I-"

He stopped and sat up in bed, rolling his lips in toward each other before running a harried hand over his mouth. He hadn't realized that night still plagued her, but how could it not? It certainly plagued him. It hadn't even crossed his mind that _maybe _she had other reasons for not wanting to share a room with him other her excuse of being a woman_._

"Jethro," she murmured, looking up at him with watery eyes, pressing her lips together in guilt-laden anguish. She knew the pain she was causing him. She shook her head. "It's not-"

She wanted to say it wasn't his fault, that it was her; but in a sense it _was _his fault.

"I'm sorry," she whispered nonetheless, her shoulders falling in her feeling of uselessness.

"Don't apologize," he muttered reflexively, but he really meant it. She had nothing to apologize for. "You take your own room," he announced finally.

"_No,_" she refused, meeting his eyes pointedly. She didn't want him to give her a room to herself because of _this_.

"Damn it, Jen," he snapped. "I'm not going to keep you awake for a week, because-!."

"I'll _get_ over it," she cut him off, getting out of bed, his eyes following her as she did so.

"You don't have to," he shot back as she started pacing in circles. "You shouldn't have to."

"I _want_ to," she punctuated, thrusting her hands out with her palms facing the ceiling, stopping in the middle of her pacing to look at him imploringly. "I really want to," she admitted with an afflicted sigh. "God, why are we having this conversation here?" she asked, laughing mirthlessly at the irony of the situation.

She ran a hand through her damp hair, though she knew it would cause an unconceivable amount of frizz in the morning. She the tip of her tongue over her top lip, shaking her head.

"I can't talk about this right now, Jethro," she sighed, her shoulders falling. "God, it's been two years. There shouldn't even be a need…"

She trailed off, suddenly to exhausted to even finish her thought. This was the _last_ place she had expected the night to end up when she had joked about his reluctance to sleep in the bed.

She bit the inside of her cheek and pursed her lips, horrified to feel the beginnings of tears burning at her eyes; she swallowed thickly before she exhaled heavily in exhaustion and simply made her way back to him. She crawled in beside him, the bed sheets rustling with her movements and she leaned her head back against his shoulder before allowing it to fall to the crook of his neck, looking to be on the verge of tears.

He tensed only a moment before he slowly slid his arms across her stomach to wrap around her waist, turning his face into her hair. It had been a long time since he had been allowed such a privilege; he had taken it for granted when he had it, and it killed him that this would likely be the last. How things always managed to hit such highs and then drop to such drastic lows between them was beyond him.

She turned into him, snuggling up to his side as she looped her arms around him, and she closed her eyes in relief, resting her head against his chest.

This thing she was doing, hanging onto whatever this was like some lifeline, it was destructive and contradictory. Their relationship itself was a juxtaposition. She'd hardly known him all those years ago, and yet she had been the mother to his child. He was the thing causing her so much torment and yet she still took solace in his arms.

For that night though, she let herself forget about who they were outside of that room and who they had been; she allowed herself to relish the feeling of the comforting movements of his hands on her back and of his legs tangled with hers; because in the morning, she would be Shepard, he would be Gibbs, he would still be negotiating a nasty divorce with a woman who he had given her place in mere months, and in that reality _this_ didn't happen.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx x

"Burley!" Gibbs barked, and Stan looked up at him from scribbling notes on his notepad, or at least pretending to.

Gibbs crooked a finger at him, and Stan smiled charmingly at the Barbie-blonde nurse he was conversing with before excusing himself from their less than necessary conversation.

"Gee, boss, you couldn't have waited ten more seconds?" Stan half-joked.

"What did you find out?" Gibbs asked, unaffected as Stan came to a stop in front of him.

"She's twenty-three, and she likes Italian food," Burley replied, grinning stupidly, and Gibbs settled him with a fed-up glare.

Burley sobered immediately, flipping back several pages on his notepad.

"Staff says there were three patients in the game room with the Marine and his sister: a Leslie Roberts, a Harrison Mayfield, and a Nancy Shepard," he filed off before looking up at his boss for a reaction.

Gibbs head eyes snapped in attention at the last surname. The name _Shepard_, and Jenny's odd behavior upon discovering their destination; it was too well linked to be mere coincidence. Besides, he didn't believe in coincidences.

"Where's Shepard?" Gibbs demanded gruffly, and a look of confusion crossed Burley's face, but he turned in search of the red-head nonetheless.

"There," Stan replied, pointing across the room at a long mane of red-hair, but he remedied his statement as the woman turned, and it became very clear that she was most certainly _not_ Jenny. "No," Stan amended, narrowing his eyes at the extreme likeness. "Damn, she looks just like her though," he muttered of the woman who could easily have been Jenny in thirty years or so. "That's got to be the Shepard, Danni was talking about. Said she was a red-"

He stopped, finally making the connection, and spun to face his boss once more only to find that Gibbs was nowhere to be found.

Instead, Gibbs had found Jenny and Decker in one of the next rooms, immersed in conversation. Gibbs grabbed Jenny by the arm, all but dragging her from the room with an expression of absolute lividity on his face; resulting in an enraged exclamation from her, and a look a mix of anger and confusion from Decker.

"Boss!" Will protested, moving to his feet, but Gibbs was deaf with rage; but not necessarily for the reasons he should have been.

"Jethro, what the hell is wrong with you?" Jenny bit out breathlessly as he backed her against the wall of the hallway.

She yanked her arm from his grasp violently, and looked up at him in horrified bewilderment, startled at the absolute rage she found there. He invaded her space, cornering her, their faces so close their noses almost touched. Her eyes flitted across his face, searching his eyes for any indication as to his behavior.

And then, she realized, he _knew_.

Her eyes lost their fire, leaving only fear; like that of an errant child being the subject of a level of a father's anger they had never seen before. Though as fast as it was there, it was gone and replaced by defiant challenge.

"Something you want to _share_ about one of the patients that was in that room?" Jethro hissed, his tone vicious.

It was at that moment that Decker stepped out into the hallway, looking from left to right in bewilderment before his gaze settled on the two of them and he jumped with a start at finding them so quickly. Stan rounded the corner from the other direction, not five seconds later and both men stood at opposite sides of the obvious quarrel between their boss and female counterpart. Neither were quite sure what to do: wait, or be prepared to remove their boss from Jenny.

"What's going on?" Decker demanded, now being the only one truly out of the loop.

He had been on Gibbs' team about the same time as Burley, but he had more backbone when it came to the former Marine; and by the look Gibbs was giving Jenny, he got the feeling he might need all of it.

Gibbs retreated from his position of intimidation slowly, looking as if he were peeling himself away from her, though his eyes never left Jenny's and his expression never changed.

"What the hell is going on?" Will ground out once more, his confusion only heightening his anger.

Jenny tore her eyes away from Gibbs' and cast her gaze to the floor a moment before she inhaled through her nose as she looked back up at all of them. She squared her shoulders and steeled her features. She pursed her lips before speaking the words that brought on a slew of emotions from the trio of men, but left them all shrouded in a charged silence.

"One of the patients that was in the room, she's my mother."

* * *

**Aww you know cliffhangers are my guilty pleasure :D And you know they wouldn't be the Jibbs I love to write if they didn't have a few arguments (or a lot). I mean, then there wouldn't be anything to make up for...**

**Next chappie, you'll begin to really understand Jenny's relationship with her mother and why she avoided talking about her in RND. And um...expect some major Jibbsiness (is that even a word...?)**

_Hearing your opinions is oh so lovely and very much appreciated :)_


	4. Chapter 4

Guys, I had so much work yesterday I didn't even get to go near a FF, but shout outs...

To the awesome, awesome TeamCarlisleandEsme8, chris.c03, AzNeRd, torontogirl12, josiemausconn, lolaughoutloud123, Kikilia14, left my heart in Paris, alix33, ParisNeverEnded, DS2010, magiclover13, and ncisgirl2389, thank you so much for your lovely reviews. You're ever so kind :D

And to everyone who has favorited and/or put the story on alert so far, thank you as well. :)

Hugs!

* * *

"Jesus, they sound like an old married couple over there," Stan muttered of the muffled argument next door, casting a sideward glance toward the room of their resident red-head and her ex-Marine opponent.

The ride back to the hotel and the elevator ride to their floor had been almost suffocating with uncomfortable silence, and the Jenny and Gibbs had quite literally slammed the door to their room and started shouting.

Decker grunted in agreement, the blue light of the television dancing across his features in the dimly lit room. He had been trying to ignore the rather vocal quarrel for the past hour, and even more so the likely reasons for it.

"You think we should tell them?" Burley asked, conflicted; and Decker looked over at him skeptically, his arms crossed behind his head.

"Do _you_ want to go over there?" he asked, raising both eyebrows at Stan, and the younger man quirked his brows in agreement.

The idea of interrupting the snapping red-head and barking Marine was less than alluring to say the least.

"Damn it, Jen!' Jethro barked. "This has a conflict of interest a mile wide, and you know it!"

She narrowed her eyes at him from the other side of the room, and made a sound somewhere between ironic laughter and an incredulous scoff.

"Is _that_ why you're upset?" she demanded, her eyes widening as her eyes shot up in skepticism. "Or are you upset because someone managed to keep something from you, the almighty Leroy Jethro Gibbs?" she mocked ruthlessly. "Because you don't know everything about me you thought you did?"

"This isn't _personal_," he bit back, though his eyes told a different story. He advanced on her, his features contorted in rage, pointing an accusing finger. "This is work, and you put this case in jeopardy."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Really?" she demanded skeptically. "Because this feels personal," she hissed, scrunching her nose in ire with a curt nod, her eyes ablaze in rage. "There is no way in _hell_ you would have been berating Burley or Decker for this long over a _conflict of interest_; and yet, here we are."

They stood there a moment, glaring at each other before Jethro broke the tense silence.

"You should have told me, Jenny," he growled, and she scoffed, smirking mirthlessly.

"Why?" she demanded viciously. "Because you always treated me _so _well, and never gave me any reason to mistrust you?" she spat harshly.

Her jaw jumped as she clenched her teeth in guilt at his nearly imperceptible flinch. She was wrong for that. He _had_ treated her well, and she knew that.

"You kept things from me too, Jethro," she reminded him, though her voice was more muted. "I don't know a thing about your mother other than the fact that she died when you were seventeen."

His features darkened, and his snapped his spine up straight.

"Leave her out of this," he warned, his voice almost threatening, and Jenny laughed, the sound almost maniacal in her bewilderment at his ability to exhibit such hypocrisy.

"So, you get to harass me about my mommy issues, but I can't so much as bring yours into the conversation?" she demanded, her voice raising once more. She stopped, and her chest heaved with her deep intake and exhale of breath. "You knew your mother, Jethro. Schizophrenia stole mine from me before I got the chance to."

"Schizophrenia?" he asked, and Jenny rolled her eyes at the sympathy in his eyes and his voice.

She turned away from him, hugging her arms across her chest.

"Don't give me that look, Jethro," she snapped, gathering her hair up as if to tie it only to release it again and rake it back with her hands. "I came to terms with my childhood a long time ago."

"_This,_" she breathed through clenched teeth, pointing a finger at his face violently, "is why I didn't tell you."

She wet her lips with her tongue before pursing them tightly.

"I knew you would look at me _exactly_ as you are now," she insisted in a low voice.

She sighed in annoyance at his characteristic silence, and turned her back to him with one arm hugging her bust line, the other propped on that one with her chin in her hand.

As if there were ever a worse time for him to say nothing.

When he spoke she actually wished he had stuck to the whole silently brooding thing.

"I deserve to know what could affect my daughter, Jenny," he murmured, meeting her eyes with an intensely pointed stare and she laughed; but it was a humorless laugh, like she might cry if she hadn't picked the former.

"There it is," she murmured, her voice little more than a whisper. She looked at him sadly as if he had done exactly what she expected of him and it was a disappointment. "Are you crazy too?"

"I didn't say that. I didn't ask that," he insisted vehemently, his dark gaze pointed. "Don't put words in my mouth, Jenny."

"Well, then what are you saying, Jethro?" she asked, her words laced with finite skepticism. "You can't possibly be talking about genetics, because Kelly does not have one ounce of my DNA; so, please, enlighten me as to what you meant."

"You-" he stopped, struggling for words, and exhaled heavily. "Is she going to show up at some point and surprise the hell out of all of us?" he asked. "Does she know about Kelly?"

"No," Jenny nearly choked hoarsely, and he swore he detected a trace of fear in her eyes.

He had. She had never even entertained the idea of Kelly and her mother; and it terrified her now.

"My mother is mentally _ill_, Jethro," she stressed, her emotions strangling her voice as she dropped to sit on the bed. "She was a _good_ mother when she was my mother."

She stopped mid-sentence and her features darkened before she looked up at him with the confusion, and hurt, and fresh pain of a childhood Jenny Shepard. She took a shaky breath.

"But they were never able to get her medication just right, and sometimes…_God_ she was a different person," she whispered, as if speaking the words too loud would send her back to her childhood years, years that she was still trying to put behind her. "She was cruel, and she was...it was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." The dazed nostalgia faded from her eyes and she met his with a fierce determination. "I won't have her around Kelly, _ever_. I won't put Kelly in jeopardy of seeing even a percentage of what I saw. Jethro, I _won't_. She would do better to have no grandmother at all than to have my mother for one."

He watched the strong woman before him starting to fray at the seams, and he realized just how deep her wounds had to go.

"What did she do to you, Jen?" he murmured.

She snapped her head in his direction, her eyes rapt with attention. She narrowed her eyes slightly and furrowed her brows.

He couldn't honestly think she wanted to go into that with him.

"This is not-" she broke off, pursing her lips. "We don't do this anymore, Jethro," she reminded him, though it sounded more like an order.

She cut her open hand through the air sharply.

"We don't _talk _about our feelings," she spat harshly. "We do our jobs." She cursed her voice as it broke hoarsely, and she inhaled sharply through her nose. "We do our jobs, and we keep our previous relationship out of it. If you want to keep me off this case because you sincerely think I will jeopardize it, _fine_; but we aren't talking about this," she said with finality.

He watched her back as she stormed away from him hurting and angry, her large, red curls catching the air, bouncing on her shoulders as she walked with purpose. She grabbed her purse and her keys from their place by the door and she wrenched said door open. In a split second decision he was at her side, shutting the door back firmly in place as he grasped her bicep firmly, spinning them so that she was farthest from the door.

"You're upset, you're angry. Don't drive," he ordered, still holding the door shut with his hand.

He towered over her without her heels, and he practically had her back pressed into the door he was so close.

"I am not upset," she contradicted him fiercely, glaring into his eyes pointedly. "Let me out." He didn't budge. "Jethro, I need to get out of this room."

"Go for a walk," he deadpanned, and she knocked her head back into the door in frustration.

"For God sakes, Jethro, I won't drive my car off a cliff!" she snapped darkly, and his hand fell from the door, but she didn't move from where she stood.

His face kept her there.

It was like a dark cast crossed his face. His jaw jumped, and his eyes-they held something she couldn't quite place.

She pulled her head back, eyeing him warily.

"Jethro?" she prodded apprehensively, her eyes searching his face with knit brows.

He took a step back his expression stony.

"Stay here, Jenny," he commanded, the genuine fearsome worry tainting his steely exterior barring no argument.

"Fine," she agreed softly. He looked like he was still reeling from the effects of something. She crossed her arms over her chest again in an attempt to put some kind of distance between them, "Are you alright?" she asked cautiously, not sure if she should move from her place at the door.

He brought hostility slicing back through the haze of caring that had fallen over them with his reply.

"We don't talk anymore, remember," he repeated her earlier words with the same biting undercurrent, quirking a brow slightly with a nod.

She pursed her lips, and simply brushed past him, deliberately knocking into his shoulder; and he took a small step to keep his balance, clenching his jaw as he sent an agitated look heavenward.

In the next room over, Burley had been listening intently since their argument had quieted down for any signs of noise. They were almost too quiet.

"You think they're done?" Stan asked, turning to his partner who was all but passed out on his bed with his NCIS cap over his eyes.

Decker mumbled something incoherent. He didn't really care as long as nobody got shot, and they had it worked out by the following morning. That, and he got some sleep.

"You think she finally killed him?" Burley asked warily, sparing the door connecting their rooms a glance one more. "I've never heard them that quiet before in my life."

Decker smirked in amusement, but shook his head in the negative.

"If she killed him, we'd know," Will mused groggily with a lazy smile. "I don't think she's exactly the 'smother him in his sleep, and run' type."

That may have been Decker's profile of her, and normally he'd be right; but in that instant, Jenny was very seriously debating holding a pillow over the former Marine's face or at least whacking him over the head with one.

She had yet to do either of those as of that moment, and so they laid in bed with their backs to each other as far from each other as humanly possible. Eventually, she got fed up with their petulant antics: he wasn't sleeping, and she knew that, she wasn't sleeping, and _he _knew _that_, but they wouldn't talk to each other.

She huffed in annoyance at the fact that she had to be the bigger person. She _never_ had to be the bigger person. In fact, she rather liked her role of the small shrew in their arguments.

She shoved him none too gently and he rolled over onto his back as well. He looked over at her, though it was really more of a diluted glare, and she sighed with cantankerous contempt.

"_Speak words_," she deadpanned peevishly, her words laced with patronizing derision.

He said nothing for a several moments. He had been in conflict with himself while he had laid in bed beside her; and he finally came to the conclusion that if he wanted anything from her or wanted to have the right to feel deserving of anything, he would have to give her something first.

"My mother drove her car off a cliff," he stated bluntly.

She failed to suppress a sharp intake of breath and she nearly gave herself whiplash she turned to look at him so fast. That hadn't even been in her top one-hundred list of things she expected him to say.

"Running from my father," he elaborated, the aversion he still felt toward his father for that etched into his features. "After an argument. Never forgave him for it. He didn't forgive himself either, but he didn't drown himself in alcohol like a man; he drowned himself in women."

What did she say to that? She wasn't exactly prepared for an admission like that from him. She hadn't heard him say that many words about what he was feeling in all the years she had known him.

"_Jethro_," she whispered, utter despair etched into just that declaration of his name, tears springing to her eyes.

With his admission came immediate understanding for her. He was the way he was for a reason. He had experienced an unimaginable amount of loss, more than anyone should ever have to endure. Both times the woman that was at the center of his life had been violently ripped from him; first his mother, and then his wife.

She didn't know what to do. Did she try to comfort him? Did he even want it? She knew that he was telling her now because he wanted information from her, so she did the only thing she could do. She gave it to him.

She sat up in bed, clearing her throat loudly as she tucked her long locks behind her ears. She pursed her lips firmly and she swallowed thickly before she spoke.

"My mother was seventeen when I was born," she revealed. "My father joined the service to support her, and me, when her mother tossed her out on the street. I was a handful on my own, and then Heather came right behind me in less than two years. They kept things like mental illness under wraps then though."

Jenny leaned back against the headboard, closing her eyes briefly.

"She _was _a good mother, or at least I think she tried to be," Jenny mused, tugging the corner of her lip between her teeth. ". She always came up with these elaborate games to play with us. Most of the time you wouldn't have known she was anything but ordinary," she murmured with a dazed stare, nodding absently. "But she would have these…episodes. The smallest thing could set her off. She would hear things." Jenny paused. "Voices. _Voices _would literally drive her out of her mind."

She looked down at her hands, a short, harsh, mirthless laugh escaping her lips before she looked up again.

"She also had a habit of blaming other people for things that she had done. I was six, Heather was five; and we were baking cookies," Jenny sighed, rubbing a hand across her forehead, and she squinted her eyes as if the look into her past was causing her great exhaustion. "My mother, left, and she came back dressed in some ridiculous outfit. She was always rather eccentric. As a child, I loved it. We played dress-up every day."

She shook her head, realizing she had veered from her original recount.

"The cookies though, they were burning, and I remember she let out this awful, outraged scream of despair at something that small. She pulled the pan out with her bare hands, and she _threw it_ at me." Jenny inhaled deeply through her nose, and she wallowed thickly before she spoke again, sending a teary glance upward, her voice softer. "She screamed at me 'look what you did, you _stupid, stupid _girl', and when I cried out, she _laughed._"

"Jenny," Jethro murmured, his voice comforting as he reached out for her only to have her flinch away from him.

She sniffed, pain etched into her features.

"_That_," she whispered. "That is when I started to realize that my mother was not just a little different. She didn't just have imaginary friends like I did. I still have the scars from that pan," she murmured, shaking her head.

He knew. He had seen the old, white scars on her arm as they laid in bed one night. When he had asked her about them, she had laughed it off with a flippant wave of the hand, recalling that she had set her arm on a hot stove as a child by accident.

He didn't want to hear anymore. He wished now that he had never made her go back into that. He also knew that he never would again.

"My father finally had her sent away when I was twelve after she threw herself out of a window following some hallucination . I haven't spoken to her in almost twenty years," Jenny breathed, and she turned her head to him, a lone tear spilling over onto her cheek. "And there is _nothing_ I can do to help her."

Immediately, he realized what he had seen in her eyes that he couldn't place two days ago. It was guilt.

"Jenny, it's not your fault," he insisted, though he did not dare try to touch her again.

"I _know_," she sighed heavily. "But the only reason that I even know where she is now is because I had to know where to write the checks to keep her there after my father died. There has to be something wrong with that."

He grabbed her hand from between them, and held it to his lips briefly. She squeezed his hand, and let out a soft sigh as she allowed her head fall to his shoulder. They sat there a moment in silence, until a small laugh escaped her lips.

She still couldn't believe the profound irony in the fact that they were learning more about each other now, in a tiny hotel room in South Carolina with nothing more than a wall separating them from Decker and Burley, than they had in all eight and a half years they had known each other.

"We are two screwed up people," she murmured with wry humor, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided smirk.

"Yeah," he laughed softly. "We are."

"Burley probably thinks you've murdered me by now," she murmured, grinning; and he laughed.

When Jenny woke the following morning it was to a rather loud and persistent knocking at the hotel door. She opened her eyes, squinting at the pestiferous light peeking in through the spaces between the blind slats.

"Three more minutes, Magda," she mumbled sluggishly, hugging her pillow tighter to her.

Jethro smirked as he walked out of the bathroom just in time to hear her lackadaisical mutterings. He grabbed his pillow from the bed and whacked her with it gently.

She shot up in bed, bracing her hands against the sheets with a sharp intake of breath.

"Jethro," she growled, eyeing him with a glare that was intended to be threatening; though her bed head and sleepy expression were less than helpful in that aspect.

"Wake up," he said, and she groaned theatrically, falling back into the covers, and she pulled her pillow over her head again.

Soon, she heard the voices of Stan and Will muffled by her pillow before Jethro's only half-joking declaration met her ears.

"…I'll dump cold water on her in a minute."

"You will not," she informed him ardently, and the floorboards creaked with footsteps and Stan was shaking her.

"Come on Red," he teased, assuming they were to forget yesterday's admission at least temporarily. "Early bird gets the worm."

"The early bird is also easy prey for the bigger bird," she shot back smartly, but she pulled the covers down from her face nonetheless despite the look of indignation on her face.

She finally sat up after a moment and tossed the covers back, setting her feet on the ground before pushing herself up. All three men's eyes immediately, instinctually shot to her very tight, very _short_ pajama bottoms.

"Stop it," she demanded knowingly before shutting the bathroom door behind her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She threw the bathroom door open fifteen minutes later with wet hair, her face sans makeup with her robe tied tight around her waist; and she caught the beginning of Decker's statement and obviously the subject of their conversation-

"Her mother, she's-"

-before he stopped abruptly and all eyes were on her.

"Crazy?" she supplied, raising both eyebrows at him, a storm of anger forming behind her green eyes as she crossed her arms under her bust.

"Jenny," Decker started apologetically, but Jenny cut him off.

"No, she is," she admitted almost airily, but the hostility in her tone made it less so. She smiled, scrunching her nose at him indulgently as she clasped her hands together. "What did you want to know?" she asked, and her expression turned dark. "What? Does she scream all day? Pull her hair out?"

"Jenny," Will tried again in a strangled voice, but yet again Jenny did not let him finish.

"She does _not_, Agent Decker," she informed him sharply with intense acrimony. "However, should you have any more questions concerning my mother or her illness, I suggest you direct them at me rather than Agent Gibbs."

The ride to Hickerman Mental home was less than pleasant. Jenny was agitated, and Gibbs was on edge because of it; Decker looked like he was swinging between uncomfortable and regretful, and Burley was the picture of the uninvolved person caught up in an uncomfortable family argument.

When they strode into the lobby after an abrupt departure the previous day, the same young, chocolate-skinned receptionist looked up at them with kinds eyes.

"Oh, you're back so soon?" she mused politely in a sweet, Southern accent.

"We need to speak with Nancy Shepard," Gibbs informed her, but a look of sympathy crossed the young woman's face before a gentle determination settled there.

"I'm sorry, Agent…"

"Gibbs," he supplied, and she smiled apologetically.

"Agent Gibbs. You have to understand, Ms. Shepard has her good days, and her bad days. Today is not a good day. I'm sorry, but you can't speak with her. I don't think she would be of much help at the moment anyway."

"I'm her daughter," Jenny interjected, stepping forward; and the younger woman's eyes widened visibly in surprise. "Jennifer Shepard. My name is on the account."

The dark sinned woman's fingers flew across the keys presumably verifying the information, and she bit the inside of her lip.

"Well," the receptionist drawled reluctantly. "I suppose you could go in, but they have to stay here," she dictated adamantly in reference to the three men. Her brows furrowed and she cocked her head to the side curiously. "Ms. Shepard doesn't get visitors. Do you talk often?"

"I'd just like to see my mother please?" Jenny requested tersely, and the receptionist moved to her feet.

"Jenny," Gibbs growled in low protest.

"Do you want to find out what happened, or not?" Jenny bit out testily.

"You don't have to do this," he murmured, eyeing her pointedly, and she puckered her lips in vexation.

"What I have to do is get that Marine justice," she hissed. "That's my job. If this is the way I do it, then yes, Jethro, I do have to," she snapped before turning on her heel to follow behind the receptionist.

As they walked down the long hallway of the mental home, a million emotions danced through Jenny's brain: anger, fear, anticipation, uncertainty. She didn't know what to expect. She had left Jethro felling so competent and decidedly brazen, but as they came upon her mother's door, she had no idea what she was going to say.

"Her memory, it's a little fuzzy at times," the ebony beauty murmured, eyeing Jenny with apology. "She mixes things up every once in a while, so take what she says with a grain of salt, you know?"

"I do," Jenny agreed, nodding in the affirmative. Her mother: the storyteller.

The receptionist nodded, and knocked on the closed door. They waited a moment, and when they received no answer she simply pushed it open slowly, peeking around it as they entered the room.

Jenny had to bite back a gasp at what she saw. Her mother, who had once been so vibrantly, obviously full of voracious youth with bright red hair and crystal blue eyes now sat looking far beyond her forty-seven years. She sat in a cushioned armchair with a paisley shawl wrapped around her shoulders staring out of the window as if it was all she ever did; her once gleaming blue eyes were now a dull watchet color, and her fiery red locks were faded and ferruginous, streaked white and pulled back into a tight knot.

She looked…_old_.

"Ms. Shepard," the receptionist, called, identifying herself as Clarissa. "There's someone here to see you, your daughter."

Immediately, Nancy seemed to regains some life, and she rose from her chair with a hopeful smile; and Jenny allowed herself to feel a childish gleam of happiness at being wanted by her mother.

"Heather?" Nancy exclaimed, pulling Jenny into a hug, and the younger redhead tensed.

Of course she expected Heather. Heather had always been her mother's favorite, and no matter what she did, Heather had followed behind her like a trained puppy dog.

As she pulled back, Nancy seemed to realize her blunder at seeing Jenny's viridian eyes: Jasper Shepard's eyes.

"Jennifer?" Nancy half-asked, nodding her head with confidence.

Only her mother called her that. Her mother had always called her that, and it was part of the reason she had never allowed anyone else to; except Ducky. Ducky called her Jennifer, but only because it sounded like it was coming from an endearing grandfather rather than the silent judging it sounded like coming from everyone else.

"Ah," Nancy murmured softly, clearly disappointed; and it cut through Jenny like a knife.

The feeling was unexpected, and Jenny simply tried to shake it off, steeling her features as her mother's eyes lost their luminescence once more.

"I'll leave you two alone," Clarissa offered, ducking out gracefully.

"Mother," Jenny called with an air of wariness as she made her way toward the woman who seemed a shell of her former self. Jenny took a seat on the edge of the bed, trying to decide how best to start. "Mother, I need to know what happened in that room. Do you remember?"

Nancy said nothing, and Jenny sighed impatiently with exasperation. She had never truly learned how to deal with her mother's disease.

"Mother," she sighed heavily. "Will you please try to remember. The Marine, he was visiting his sister here, Lisa. Do you know _her_?" Again Nancy said nothing. "You were in the room. Did you see him fall? Did you notice anyone around him, maybe? Did someone fix a drink for him?"

Again, Nancy said nothing.

Jenny leaned forward, ready to try again when she realized that her mother _was_ speaking, just not to her.

"Mom?" Jenny murmured, her eyes flooding with concern.

Nancy's mutterings grew more audible and she started to wring her hands anxiously.

"No," Nancy hissed, her eyes wide. "Stop. It wasn't my fault. I promised. I can't."

"_Mom_," Jenny breathed desperately, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Mom, please," she begged, but Nancy was lost.

"Stop, please stop," Jenny's mother cried softly, her torment clear in her voice. "Stop!" she shouted, and Jenny leaped from the bed as if were covered in hot rocks, backing away from her mother as she watched the woman fall apart in front of her for the first time in years. She stumbled from the room, and her mother's screams intensified.

"Help," she called. "God, someone _help me!_" she shouted, though it came out as a strangled growl of distress.

The receptionist, obviously a nurse herself, and two doctors came barreling into the room, quickly followed by Gibbs, Burley, and Decker.

Jethro was at Jenny's side in an instant, pulling her from the room as the doctor's attempted to calm her mother.

"You all have to leave," Clarissa informed them firmly over Nancy's increasingly erratic mutterings, the four of them were ushered the room and the door was slammed in their faces.

Jenny exhaled shakily, raking a hand through her hair; and she hardly registered Jethro sending Burley and Decker away on some ersatz errand.

She inhaled and exhaled heavily again in an attempt to calm herself, and he moved her down the hall away from her mother's room; but it was like on a loop in her head, her mother's words: '_It's not my fault. I promised. I can't_.'

They were not nonsensical mutterings. She knew something about what had happened in that room.

When Burley and Decker returned some time later, Jenny stood with her back against the wall of the hallway with her hands crossed behind her back and her head bowed, a void expression on her face.

"Get the car," Gibbs instructed, and once again Will and Stan disappeared despite hesitating first, eyeing Jenny warily.

Gibbs turned his attention to her.

"You alright?" he asked with genuine concern, and she scoffed.

"Peachy," she laughed sardonically before pushing herself off the wall and set off with slow steps toward the exit.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jenny woke from a well deserved nap around five. When they had gotten to the hotel she had dressed in her pajamas and quite literally collapsed into bed.

Jethro looked up as she approached the small table by the window where he sat. He slid his glass of bourbon toward her, sending a drop of the amber liquid sloshing over the rim. He watched her as she drank from the glass, wincing only slightly at the burn of the whiskey hitting her throat.

"I want to hate her," Jenny murmured. "I want to hate her so much, and I can't."

He didn't say anything, but she wasn't looking for a reply.

"She knows something, Jethro," she said, finally meeting his eyes.

"Drink," he advised. Under normal circumstances he probably would have taken the bottle from her, but these were not normal circumstances.

"I don't want to _think_ about my mother. I want to..." She trailed off, exhaling heavily. She looked up at him, and he knew what she wanted.

He had seen that look time enough to know.

"Jenny, you're drunk," he stated matter-of-factly. Bourbon always went straight to her head.

"Buzzed," she aquiesced. "Jethro, I'm not drunk."

In other words: you aren't taking advantage of me.

"Not sober," he challenged with a pointed look, pushing himself out of his chair.

She managed a weak glare, but the alcohol casting a haze over her mind proved his point.

He held his hand out to help her up.

"Come on. Get back to bed," he advised, and she took the offered hand.

"Jethro, are you sure you're playing for the right team?" she teased suggestively, and he settled her with a mild glare.

"I just care if wake up and cut 'em off in the middle of the night," he shot back, but the underlying message was clear.

I care if you regret it or not.

She sighed, leaning against him as he walked her to the bed.

"You're a good guy, Jethro," she murmured, the slightest slur to her speech being the only real indication of her intoxication. "You're good to me."

"Too good," he teased, tucking the bed covers around her small frame, and she smiled.

"But that's why I love you," she murmured, and he paused.

He didn't know how he should take that. She was slightly inebriated and clearly exhausted. He was t sure if she was being facetious or simply speaking from her subconscious.

And so he replied teasingly.

"That'll be the day."

* * *

Oh! So close! Gibbs and his gentlemanly ways lol.

You guys, I hopped on this last Wednesday, but then I got caught up in school and a writing a UN proposal project and some 'Scandal'...mhmmm. I have been cheating on NCIS guys. Scandal is my Olivia Pope lol. If you watch you know what I'm talking about and it is addictive. If not then I'm just rambling and you probably want me to shut up :)

Okay, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and feedback...I love it ;) Alright. I'm going to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Happy Tuesday!...wait...Wednesday?...no, _Sunday_?! Shame.

1. I seriously have to apologize for the delay you guys, but I really have been quite ill. :/ Add that with makeup work for school it honestly couldn't be helped; but I apologize nonetheless. Then my computer crashed. Smh. Forgive me? :)

2. This is a freakishly long chapter (like over 15,000 words) so maybe that kinda makes up for it? I was going to split it into two and make it a double update week but you could read half today and half later in the week lol.

3. I must stand corrected. Last chapter was not Jibbsiness (now that we've established that's a word). _This _dearies is Jibbsiness. You will get what you came for, if you catch my drift ;D_  
_

What did I forget?...Oh!

Enjoy! And shout outs at the end. And please excuse any minor spelling/grammar. Auto correct on the iPhone is a bitch. -_-

* * *

Jenny sat at her desk with her feet propped up on the edge when Jethro walked in wearing a sand colored suit and a scowl. She looked up, raising both eyebrows at him inquisitively as he strained his neck, running his finger along the inside of his collar in trying to loosen his garish, blue striped, pumpkin colored tie which was obviously too tight.

Eventually he just untied it and snatched it off in exacerbated irritability, and Jenny yanked the tip of her red Twizzler off with her teeth. The two of them had returned to Washington three days ago to start in on their other cases while Burley and Decker stayed behind in South Carolina to tie up loose ends on their dead Marine case.

A gleeful grin split Jenny's face as she chewed, realizing an opportunity to harass the obviously afflicted man scowling at the desk diagonal to hers. She swung her legs down and practically popped out of her seat with girlish enthusiasm as she made her way over to his desk.

"You get to see Diane today, right?" she inquired, though she already knew the answer.

As was standard, the divorce was to take at least six months before it could be finalized, and in the meantime, Diane was driving Jethro insane; Jenny too for that matter.

The younger redhead had received her second subpoena less than two weeks ago.

Diane was a smart woman, and Jenny thought the scarlet-haired accountant might have gotten the message when Jenny had gotten the first one quashed. Alas, she had received another white piece of paper requesting she appear. Why, she had no idea. She wasn't the best person to testify in Diane's favor.

"You going?" Jethro asked, having knowledge of the subpoena.

"No, I'm going to be held in contempt instead," she shot back, her words dripping with sarcasm. "I didn't think the judge would go for the whole 'single mom, demanding job' thing again."

He scowled up at her with a hard glare; but she grinned nonetheless.

"Oh relax, Jethro," she coaxed airily, "What can her lawyer ask? I'm sure it will only be of help to you." She picked up his horrendously orange tie, grimacing in distaste. "You know, I knew when Diane first started hating you. Your ties got ugly again."

His head shot up and he wore a distinctly affronted look on his face.

"My ties are not _ugly,_" he growled, and she raised a brow skeptically.

"No," she agreed with a shrug, before eyeing him pointedly. "They're _hideous_." She scrunched her nose in disgust and tossed the offensive tie back on his desk as if discarding a used snot rag. "Particularly that one."

"Kelly gave me this tie," he informed her, snatching it up and waving it at her.

She snorted derisively.

"When she was _six_," Jenny stressed incredulously, remembering that particular Father's day. "You smile at your six-year-old and make her feel like you love her gift just because she picked it out," she enlightened him slowly as if speaking to a small child. "Then, you shove it in the back of your closet for all eternity. You don't actually _wear_ it for two years," she laughed.

He was about to deliver a no doubt snappy comeback when his phone rang. He snatched it up, eyeing her warily as she took a seat on the edge of his desk.

"Gibbs," he answered gruffly.

She grabbed his wallet from his desk, and started rifling through it out of sheer boredom, and he glared at her as he spoke to the person at the other end of his conversation. In typical Jethro fashion there was one credit card, one debit card, and a plethora of crumpled looking bills of various values. She paused as she came across a folded and faded photo tucked into one of the pockets. She tugged it out, unfolding it, and a nostalgic smile spread across her face.

It was of her, and Kelly, and Jethro.

Jethro's face was covered in white-frosted cake, and Jenny was simultaneously pulling away from him and curling in toward him as he held her to him. Her lips were compressed into an amused and disgusted half-pucker, her eyes squinted shut as he pressed his lips against hers. Kelly was the best part of the photo, standing between the two of them with a wide-eyed, sugar-induced, all teeth baring grin directed at the camera.

It was from Kelly's sixth birthday party, and likely the last truly happy memory they'd had. Perhaps that was why he kept it.

Jenny looked back at Jethro who was scribbling something on his notepad, and he looked up at her, feeling her gaze.

She held up the snap with an air of amusement, and he smirked. He didn't know who had started the cake throwing debacle; just that it had spurred a tradition of sorts; though they had wised up and brought large, plastic bags into the equation in later years.

She tucked the photo back into its place as he neared the end of his conversation.

Jenny eyed him curiously when he slammed the phone back onto the hook with slightly more force than was necessary. He rose from his seat, grabbing his things and she took that as an indication that she was to grab hers as well.

"Falls Church," he said as she ran to catch up with him. "Twelve year old kid shot her dad in the shoulder. They're at Dominion."

"_Her_?" Jenny asked in surprise as Jethro stepped back to allow her into the elevator-boys shot their fathers under extenuating circumstances, but girls? No.

"Won't say a word," he muttered gruffly, reaching forward to hit the button for the ground floor.

"Girl or the dad?" Jenny asked, looking over at him, her brows furrowed with inquisition.

"Either," he replied as the elevator doors closed in front of them.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx

"You talk to the girl, I'll talk to the parents," Gibbs directed as they looked in from the doorway at the waif of a child with auburn streaked brown hair sitting in the hospital's children's room, her blue eyes large and distant.

"Yeah," Jenny agreed, and he nodded before setting off in the direction of the father's room.

Jenny stayed rooted to her spot for a moment, trying to decide how best to proceed. How did you talk to a girl who opened fire on her father without any apparent reason? But looking at that little girl

—sitting on the floor with a slew of emotions dancing in her bright blue eyes, her knees drawn up to her chest; Jenny couldn't do anything _but_ help her. She walked through the door, approaching the fragile looking girl cautiously.

"Brenna?" Jenny asked softly, removing her issued NCIS cap from her head; but she received no response-not even a quick glance. "Do you mind if I sit down?" Jenny asked, and again she got nothing.

She took a seat regardless, squatting to sit down beside the brunette. She looked over at Brenna sympathetically, while she tried to figure out a way to get the girl to talk to her. She watched fresh tears fall from the child's eyes, and she pulled a pack of Kleenex from her pocket, holding one out to Brenna.

The girl sniffed and looked down at the offered Kleenex before she took it, and afforded Jenny a small, watery smile. Jenny visibly exhaled in relief, and she returned the smile with a warm one of her own.

"I'm Jenny," she offered, tilting her head to the side to catch a bit of Brenna's smile.

"Hi," Brenna mumbled in a small voice, turning her head into her shoulder to look up at Jenny shyly with sad eyes.

"Hi," Jenny replied. She settled back against the wall and looked down at Brenna and scrunched her nose regretfully. "You know why I'm here?" she asked though it was really more of a statement.

Brenna nodded.

"I shot my dad." She looked up at Jenny with fearful eyes. "Are you going to take me to jail?"

"No, honey," Jenny assured her, shaking her head. "I just want to talk. I just want to hear what happened."

Brenna seemed to pull back again, and Jenny sighed looking around at the cream-colored walls with large eyed animals and cartoon clouds. It looked like a nursery-certainly no place for a twelve-year-old.

"You're kind of old for this room aren't you?" Jenny asked, meeting Brenna's eyes once more. "I'm sure we could find a better place." Brenna shrugged, and Jenny nodded. "Yeah." Jenny agreed. "These huge eyes are creeping me out."

Brenna smiled a genuine smile, and Jenny laughed softly as she moved to her feet. She held a hand out for Brenna to take, and she pulled the brunette to her feet.

Thirty minutes later, they sat outside in the hot summer sun on a bench under a large, shady, tree, eating ice cream, the leaves swaying in the breeze sending shadows dancing across their faces.

"It was an accident," Brenna admitted, and Jenny looked over at her abruptly. The redhead had simply been waiting for the brunette to speak. "I didn't want to hurt him." Brenna stared into Jenny's eyes with imploring earnest. "I swear, I didn't."

"So, what happened?" Jenny asked, resting her head on the flat surface of her folded hand, her elbow resting on the top of the bench.

"I can't tell you," Brenna insisted vehemently, shaking her head.

Jenny raised a brow before eyeing the girl, at a loss as to how to help her if she wouldn't _say _anything. Jenny sighed heavily, sitting up straight. She eyed Brenna, helplessly; she shrugged, shaking her head with pursed lips.

"Brenna, you have to tell me something," Jenny sighed. Even the small chance of that happening was squashed when Jenny's pager beeped on her hip. She sighed softly and unhooked it from her belt.

'_Gibbs'_ it read, and Jenny looked back up at Brenna, giving her an apologetic smile.

"That's my boss," she murmured, moving to her feet. "He probably thinks I kidnapped you or something."

"I'm sorry," Brenna apologized, and Jenny knew she meant for not telling her anything.

"Maybe next time, huh?" Jenny suggested, and Brenna gave a half-hearted nod. Jenny stood there waiting for Brenna to get up, and she inclined her head at seeing that the girl was obviously struggling to put something into words. "Brenna?" she coaxed hopefully.

"Do I have to go back there?" Brenna finally asked, squinting up at Jenny through the sunlight, holding her Styrofoam cup of ice cream just a bit tighter than was necessary.

"Where?" Jenny asked, not understanding.

"Home," Brenna supplied quietly, and Jenny's brows furrowed before she took a seat once more.

"Why don't you want to go home, Brenna?" Jenny inquired, realizing that there was some meaning in that.

Brenna shrugged in attempted nonchalance, but Jenny knew better.

"You're nice," the girl offered in rationale.

"And your mom, she isn't nice?" Jenny asked, and the brunette's head shot up.

"No!" Brenna contradicted her emphatically, shaking her head. "No, not my mom. She's great."

Jenny nodded, sitting back in understanding.

"Your dad then?" she inquired. "Brenna, has he hurt you?"

Brenna bowed her head, shaking it in the negative.

"No," she whispered, and before Jenny could delve further, her beeper went off again, cutting through the honest atmosphere like a knife.

Jenny tried to ignore it-

"Brenna," she tried.

-but the damage was done.

"Can we please go?" Brenna asked, and Jenny nodded reluctantly, cursing Jethro mentally.

"Yeah," she sighed, though she was disinclined to say it. "Yeah, we can go."

When Jenny stepped off the elevator with Brenna five minutes later, Gibbs was ready to throttle her, but the look Jenny was giving him indicated that she wanted to do the same, and she wanted it so much more.

Brenna spotted her mother as they made it further up the hallway, and ran past Gibbs to her. Jenny looked up briefly, zeroing in on the mother.

She looked incredibly familiar.

She forgot about the mother though as she came to a stop in front of Jethro, and she was overwhelmed by acrimonious disbelief once more.

"Is there a reason you felt the need to page me every five seconds?" she hissed with irascibility.

"I paged you twice," he bit back. "I shouldn't have had to in the first place. Where did you go?"

"Somewhere she was more inclined to talk," she snapped sharply, her hand movements matching her tone. "Which she was about to do when your incessant beeping sent her running back into her shell."

He sighed, at least having the decency to look somewhat compunctious.

"What did you manage to get?" he queried gruffly, and she crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Brenna over his shoulder.

"There's something going on in that house. I don't know what,"-she glared at him in vexation-"because _someone_ fucked that up. Something is off though."

She glanced back at the mother for the fifth time in as many minutes, and Jethro looked to her in agitation.

"What?" he demanded, annoyed with her fidgeting; he looked back at the mother and daughter pair himself.

"I _know_ her," Jenny insisted, wracking her brain as to where from. "I can't figure it out, but I

—"

She stopped as it dawned on her.

"What?" Jethro demanded again, and she thrust her open palm out toward the other redhead.

"She used to live next door to me. God, she looks just like her mother. She was a few years older than me, but we played together as kids. My mother, she ended up driving them away when I was nine."

"Can you not be personally involved in _one_ of our cases," he muttered sarcastically, and Jenny smirked.

"It is not my fault I'm a people person, Jethro," she defended herself teasingly.

He looked back at the woman again, his gaze lingering a moment before he turned back to Jenny. "See if you can get something from her."

"Don't page me fifty million times this time, and maybe I will," was her snarky suggestion.

"Twice!" he scoffed, rolling his eyes in disbelief.

Jenny approached Brenna and her mother, whose name she had forgotten; and the woman looked up from her daughter expectantly before confusion crossed her face.

"Hey, Brenna, you see that guy with the haircut that looks like somebody stuck a bowl on top of his head and went at it with scissors?" Jenny asked, pointing to Gibbs with a grin; and Brenna nodded with smile of her own. "He has a daughter a little younger than you. I'm sure he'll give you almost anything you want. If he doesn't tell him I said to. He likes me," Jenny whispered as if conspiring some elaborate scheme with the girl. "Why don't you go see while I talk to your mom?"

Brenna looked up at her mother, and received an approving nod. The brunette grinned, running off in Gibbs' direction. Jenny and Brenna's mother watched as she scampered up to Gibbs with a bashful smile, and he looked down at her in slight surprise. She had obviously relayed the message when Jethro's head shot up, and he directed a particularly loathing glare in Jenny's direction.

Jenny met his gaze with faux innocence: wide eyes and raised brows. She smirked, and waved him on with her hands in a shooing motion. He turned with Brenna

—though he acted as if it were killing him; and she knew he only did it because he needed her to speak with the mother.

She laughed softly before turning back to the mother who had a small smile on her face as well.

"Do you have him whipped or something?" she laughed.

"I wish," Jenny muttered, grinning. "No, he'll give me hell for it later. He's just got a soft spot for kids."

"I know you," the other redhead blurted abruptly, but confidently, the failure to realize where from obviously perturbing her.

Jenny nodded.

"We lived next door to each other," Jenny supplied, and the other woman smiled as the realization hit her. "As kids," she elaborated.

"Right," the other redhead agreed, pointing at Jenny. "Jenna?" she mused, though it came off as a question.

"Jenny. Jenny, Shepard."

"Jenny," Brenna's mother noted apologetically. "God, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, um…" Jenny trailed off, biting her lip with her own regretful look of apology.

Brenna's mother laughed.

"Caroline. Carrie," she offered.

Jenny smiled, though it was less genuine as she knew the conversation was about to get far from lighthearted.

"Shall we sit?" Jenny asked, and Caroline nodded.

"Brenna didn't mean to do anything," Caroline sighed the moment her butt hit the chair.

"Well, she didn't tell us much. Maybe you can," Jenny said, eyeing Caroline expectantly.

"It was her father's gun," Caroline explained, waving her hand in the air. "She was just curious I think. It was an accident. She loves him."

"I'm sure she does, Caroline," Jenny murmured, nodding in understanding. "I have to ask though. Are there any problems in the home?"

"Well, every home has their problems," Caroline replied, laughing the question off flippantly.

Jenny smiled tightly.

"Caroline, has your husband every hurt you or your daughter?"

Caroline, pursed her lips, obviously no longer feeling so friendly.

"My husband loves me, Ms. Shepard; and he loves Brenna. He would just die if he ever hurt her."

"And you?" Jenny inquired, noting the purpling hand prints around Caroline's arms and the not quite covered bruise blossoming under her left eye.

"My husband _loves _me," Caroline insisted yet again, if more forcefully

"Did love give you those bruises?" Jenny asked softly though her voice held a gentle firmness.

"You've never heard of rough sex Agent Shepard?" Caroline hissed angrily, yanking her sleeves down violently; and Jenny pursed her lips into a resigned smile and gave the other woman a small nod.

It was obvious that she wouldn't be getting anything from Caroline that day.

"Well, thank you for your time," Jenny sighed, moving to her feet. "If you change your mind, please call."

She held out her card as Caroline rose to her feet as well.

Caroline inhaled through her nose, nodding at Jenny and she took the card, tucking it away into her purse.

"Thank you, but I won't," Caroline said, and Jenny had never seen anyone any more sure of anything in her life. "I just want to make sure that a misunderstanding doesn't have any negative repercussions on Brenna."

"I'm sure everything will make itself clear in time," Jenny replied cryptically.

Both Jenny and Caroline looked up as Jethro and Brenna rounded the corner. Caroline pasted a brilliant smile on her face like a veteran thespian and Brenna ran up to her mother with bright eyes.

"Mom, look!" she said, and anything else faded into the white noise of the hospital as Gibbs pulled Jenny aside.

"What did you find out?" he asked, and Jenny shook her head, shrugging her shoulders.

"He's beating her, that's for sure; but she won't outright deny it. She just dances around it. It can't have been going on long. She hasn't learned to hide the bruises yet," Jenny muttered, and a tense silence settled over them.

Jethro cleared his throat.

"You think the girl shot him because of it?" he asked.

Jenny sighed in frustration.

"I don't know. I can't get a good read on either of them. The mother is hiding something, and she's trained her daughter well. All I can say for certain, Jethro, is that there's something wrong in that house."

"Dad's typical Marine. Says he's fine. It was an accident," Jethro relayed, and Jenny nodded.

"That's what the mother says," she concurred. She cut her gaze to him. "It wasn't," she insisted.

"We investigate it like that," he decided, and she nodded.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When they returned to NCIS, Burley and Decker were there in the bullpen, shooting spitballs at each other.

Burley nearly fell out of his chair as Gibbs strode around the corner and both Stan and Will straightened up, eyeing their boss warily.

"You idiots don't have anything better to do?" Jenny demanded.

"You want to hear us argue over about football and baseball instead, Shepard?" Burley shot back, tossing his stapler in the air, flinching when he missed catching it and it barely missed his head before falling to the floor.

Burley was a Brooklyn boy through and through, and Decker was no doubt a Southern man who loved his football. Needless to say, they had different opinions as to which sport was irrelevant in the scheme of things.

Jenny raised both brows, and shook her head at the inanity she was forced to remain subject to. She tossed her bag to the floor, and dropped into her chair.

"Football, baseball, spitballs," she rattled off. "I didn't know you boys liked balls so much," she teased with a smug smirk; and both Decker and Burley blanched visibly with identical disgusted grimaces.

"Hey, I like women, Shepard. I like breasts," Burley insisted, and Jenny clicked her tongue, puckering her lips as she shook her head.

"You're protesting too much," she said in a sing-song voice, and he glared at her.

"You're ugly too much," he shot back childishly and a bit louder than could be deemed acceptable.

Jenny had to bite her tongue so hard she thought it would bleed to keep from laughing. She wasn't even sure that horrible, horrible comeback was even deserving of a witty response from her.

"Oh, Burley you're not fooling anyone," Jenny murmured huskily. "You know you'd jump into bed with me the minute you got the chance."

"That an offer, Shepard?" he asked, raising a brow, and she grinned.

"You wish," she laughed, pouting on patronizing amusement before she fell back into a short chuckle. "You're like a brother I never wanted," she insisted. "That's disgusting."

Gibbs and Decker simultaneously sent an agitated look heavenward. Stan and Jenny's little spats always ended in one or both of them being cranky. That afforded either an irate redhead, or a whiney Burley. They weren't sure as of yet which was worse.

"What's the new case?" Decker asked of Gibbs.

Gibbs scowled at his computer, jabbing various keys with increasing force as he replied.

"Twelve year old girl; Brenna Henderson shot her father, Gunnery Sergeant Thomas Henderson," Gibbs replied before banging his fist on top of the monitor. "What's wrong with this damn thing?!" he demanded, and Jenny shot to her feet.

"Will you stop before you kill it?" she shouted over his barbaric banging, and he glared up at her. "For God's sake, Jethro," she muttered reaching over his shoulders from behind him to fix whatever he had done to make the screen go black.

"Looks like a domestic violence case," Gibbs muttered, looking over at Jenny out of the corner of his eye at her frustrated groan. Damn it if she wasn't close enough for him to kiss her if he turned his head two inches to the right.

"What the hell did you do, Gibbs?" she demanded, smacking the monitor herself before standing up straight and he eyed her reproachfully.

"Hell if I know," he shot back. "You're the tech buff. Fix it."

"I can't _fix it_ if I can't figure out what you did, you old jarhead," she snapped. "And simply being able to use a computer does not make me a tech buff." She sighed, wrapping her ponytail around itself into a bun, and nudged him gently. "Move," she instructed, and he obliged, moving from his chair.

She dropped to her knees and crawled under the desk in search of a loose cord as he walked out into the middle of the floor.

"Decker, check the Gunny's military record, talk to his C.O. Burley, find out everything you can about that family."

"On it boss," they replied simultaneously as Jenny pulled herself up from behind Gibbs' desk.

"Did you fix it?" Gibbs demanded, and she rolled her eyes.

"Yes I fixed it," she replied, brushing the stray pieces of lint from her blouse. "Maybe if you kept your Sasquatch feet away from the power cord, I wouldn't have to and you could see pretty computer magic all the time," she shot back in vicious condescension.

What he had done or not done this time, Gibbs had no idea; but she was cranky and incredibly sarcastic.

"You eat today?" he asked, thinking that might the reason for her suddenly foul mood.

"Of course I-!" She started to snap, but stopped mid-sentence. "Maybe," she conceded.

"Go," he instructed, pointing toward the elevator. "Bring back lunch. You're probably a damn diabetic by now all that sugar you eat," he muttered under his breath.

"I have avoided sticking myself with needles thus far," she bit back primly. "I simply have an aversion to the words 'sugar' and 'free' on the same package."

"What are you grinning at Burley?" Jenny demanded, grabbing her purse from the floor.

"Nothing," he waved her off, before an impish grin settled on his face. "Just, you know, do you spend a lot of time under Gibbs' desk?" he asked, his vulgar reference clear.

Jenny smiled sweetly, though her eyes held a dangerous gleam.

"Yes, Burley, I do," she answered with matter-of-factly, "It's considered overtime. It pays rather well."

Burley smirked, and Jethro rolled his eyes.

"Shepard,"' Gibbs warned with a pointed glare, and she grinned devilishly.

"Oh, Gibbs, don't spoil my fun," she protested, pouting in mock dejection.

"Don't worry Stan, I'll bring back a salad chocked full of veggies just for you," she promised with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I know how much you like those."

"Boss!" Stan protested, but Jenny was already making a run for the elevators.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By four' o'clock, they were no further on the Henderson case than when they started. There was no history of hospital visits by the mother or the daughter, the Gunny had a record cleaner than a brand new slate. For all intents and purposes, the Hendersons appeared to be the perfect, happy military family; loving, stay at home mom, admirable Marine father, straight-A student for a daughter.

"Pack up, go home," Gibbs instructed, directing his statement at Jenny.

She looked up abruptly, furrowing her brows in confusion, as did Burley and Decker.

"We get to go home early, boss?" Burley asked hopefully as the ex-Marine grabbed his things.

"No," Gibbs replied simply. "Shepard is going home early. You and Decker are staying here to find me something on this case," Gibbs said, pointing to the whiteboard in the middle of the floor showcasing the pictures of the Henderson family.

"Boss!" Decker and Burley protested simultaneously with bewildered and outraged expressions.

"Come on boss, we just spent three extra days in South Carolina," Burley insisted. "Boss we deserve a day off too. What did Shepard do?"

"Shepard did her job," Gibbs replied while the aforementioned woman stood at the entrance of the bullpen, her emerald eyes wide with confusion. "You," Gibbs pointed at Burley. "And you," He jabbed his finger at Decker, "Spent an extra day goofing off."

Burley and Decker's faces held identical 'cat ate the canary' expressions.

"Hospital sent the files two days ago," Gibbs enlightened them. "You should've been here yesterday."

Decker cleared his throat, scooting his chair back up to his desk, and Burley ducked his head, returning to his work.

"I'll get on that boss," Stan mumbled, and Gibbs nodded with narrowed eyes and raised brows, the unspoken message clear.

"_Yeah you will_."

"Nice," Jenny praised softly with a small smirk as they stepped onto the elevator. "Though you could have just told them your wife thinks you're screwing me," she murmured smugly as the elevator doors closed behind them.

In the bullpen, Burley lifted himself out of his chair, peering over the cubicle divide like a Meer cat until he was sure Jenny and Gibbs were gone. When he was sure, he grinned and slipped out from behind his desk, tossing an apple in the air.

"Boss was pretty dressed up," he commented, taking an appreciative bite. "G_ood apple_," he mumbled around his chewing before looking back to Decker for the dark haired man's reaction.

"What's your point, Burley?" Decker asked, still disgruntled that they were there working.

"Shepard too," Burley mused; and a gleefully impish grin lit up his face. "You don't think he's marrying her do you?" he joked.

"Oh, he couldn't handle me," Jenny's smug voice met his ears, and Burley jumped ten feet in the air, spinning to face her with eyes wide in bewilderment.

"How did you-when-where did-" he fumbled over his words, whipping his head back and forth between her and the elevator in disbelief.

He hadn't even heard the doors.

"Stairs," she replied, snatching her purse from the floor. "Forgot my purse. Got off one floor down. Will saw me come in," she informed him with a shrug.

"Jeez, Red, you picked up on his stealth tactics a little too quickly," Burley muttered in reference to their boss.

"You're just very unperceptive, Stan," she whispered as if it were some big, embarrassing secret. "I'll send you a post card from Paris," she teased in reference to the popularity of the city as a honeymoon destination before turning on her heel as she slung her purse over her shoulder and set off toward the elevator.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"It may not have been the best idea to walk into divorce court with the _harlot _you've allegedly been screwing around with," Jenny murmured, leaning in conspiratorially, looking up at Jethro through her lashes with a complacent grin on her face nonetheless as they walked through the doors of the courthouse.

"They'll live," he deadpanned, holding the courtroom door open for her.

Every pair of eyes in the courtroom flitted to them before dropping in disinterest, but one remained. Diane watched them with hard eyes, her lips pressed into a tight line.

"What, did you bring her for support?" she hissed at Jethro as he took his seat on his side of the courtroom.

"You subpoenaed her, Diane," he growled.

"I did not," she gasped, horrified at the idea.

"Then, your lawyer did," he shot back, leaning back in his chair as he adjusted his tie: a more appropriate one at Jenny's request; and Diane snapped her head to said attorney, her eyes flashing.

Jenny's eyebrows shot up as the middle aged man tried to calm the clearly irate redhead.

"This will be interesting," she grumbled, crossing one leg over the other.

Not fifteen minutes later, she sat on the stand with her hand on the Bible the bailiff held in front of her and her right hand in the air.

"Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God?" he asked with a bored expression.

It was the end of the day and that was all he ever said to anyone all day.

"Yeah," Jenny agreed, just as unaffected.

Diane's lawyer moved from his seat, pulling his expensive looking jacket straight as he approached Jenny; and she was soon face to face with the rich looking man with slicked back grey hair and a seedy smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Ms. Shepard, what is your relationship to Mr. Gibbs?" he asked, inclining his head slightly as if he were actually interested in what she had to say.

"We're friends," Jenny replied slowly, her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. "We have a daughter."

"You must be good friends," he deduced in feigned surprise. "For him to trust you with his daughter," he elaborated. "You aren't her biological mother."

He phrased the last statement as a question, but his pompous attitude made it come off as a fact.

"I suppose," Jenny acknowledged shortly in response to his former statement. "And no, I'm not."

"Right," he agreed though he said it as if he were talking only to himself as he nodded. "Ms. Shepard, you and Mr. Gibbs were involved in a relationship."

Jenny smirked wryly. _There it was._

"At one point, yes," she laughed, tickled past her annoyance.

Diane's lawyer smiled indulgently.

"How would you describe Mr. Gibbs during your relationship?" he asked, starting to pace the floor though he kept his eyes on her.

Jenny paused in thought.

"He was caring, thoughtful, protective," she responded earnestly.

"Well if he was such a great guy, what happened?" the attorney asked as if genuinely confused.

"We're better as friends," Jenny stated.

"Why?" the lawyer asked, and Jenny narrowed her eyes reproachfully.

She scoffed at his unabashedly unbarred inquiry into her personal life.

"I suppose we were romantically dysfunctional," she shot back snippily.

The grey-haired lawyer smiled tightly before his face lost all amusement and there was only direct inquiry in his voice.

"So, you were never ever afraid of Mr. Gibbs during your relationship?" he asked, and Jenny's smile faded slightly.

He had skipped right over any inquiries into an extra-marital relationship between them. Jenny looked over at Diane to see that she seemed just as confused as Jenny if not more. Diane was quite obviously entirely out of the loop.

"Afraid?" Jenny demanded skeptically, regaining her composure. "Is that a serious question?" she scoffed.

"I would say so, Ms. Shepard," he replied, and Jenny sat back in her chair, raising an eyebrow reproachfully.

She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at the man in front of her.

"Why would I be _afraid_ of Mr. Gibbs, Mr…?" she trailed off, expecting him to insert his name.

"Bonner," he interjected, and she nodded curtly.

"Mr. Bonner," she amended. "Why would I be afraid of Mr. Gibbs?"

"I don't know," he confessed, shrugging his shoulders with his palms out facing the ceiling. "Why don't you tell me, seeing as you still haven't answered my question," he suggested, tilting his head to the side, his eyebrows raised as his eyes gleamed with omniscience.

"No, Mr. Bonner," Jenny sighed, as if bored with his line of questioning. "I was never afraid of your client's husband."

"He was never violent during your relationship? He never hurt you?" Diane's lawyer continued on like a dog with a bone.

That was when Jenny realized, he hadn't touched on an affair because he knew he couldn't prove an affair; but he didn't need an affair. He had something better.

"Did he ever-?" Jenny laughed in brilliantly feigned disbelief. "Mr. Bonner, I honestly think you have the wrong man."

"Ms. Shepard, please answer the question," the attorney insisted with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

Jenny was silent a moment before she pressed her lips together, her decision made and she sighed.

"No, Mr. Bonner, Mr. Gibbs never laid a hand on me," she lied, her eyes flashing in irate agitation.

"Ms. Shepard, you do know the penalty for lying under oath, don't you?" Bonner asked, his eyes boring into hers pointedly; and Jenny eyed the man indignantly.

"I do," she acquiesced. "However, I don't see how that information pertains to me."

"Well, I'm going to show you something. You might change your mind," he informed her with an air of pompous confidence that made her sick to her stomach.

Jenny attempted to control her erratic heartbeat as he walked to the table where Diane sat, and grabbed several papers from said table.

She watched as he set one in front of Jethro and his lawyer; and Jethro's hand curled into a fist on the table while his eyes never left the paper and his lawyer started whispering things into his ear. Diane's lawyer then sat one in front of the judge, who looked to Jenny abruptly; he then, finally, set one in front of Jenny and she failed to muffle a sharp intake of breath.

They were photos of her from two years ago. There was a cut under her right eye, both were ringed in dark circles, and the bruises were already starting to form; angry, red hand marks marred her neck. In short, she looked like someone had choked the life out of her.

"Ms. Shepard, these are photos taken in a hospital not far from Mr. Gibbs' home. Would you mind telling me just how his hand prints ended up on your neck if he never _laid a hand on you_?" Bonner demanded viciously, his eyes shining in triumph.

Jenny's eyes flitted to Jethro, who appeared to be struggling with his composure. He had never seen the immediate effects of that night. He met her eyes and her heart nearly broke at the tormented expression she found in his. Her shoulders slumped and her eyes bored into his imploringly. If he lost his cool it would screw everything up.

Jenny inhaled through her nose before she looked up at Bonner with a terribly smug smirk, satisfied to see the aforementioned asshole lose some of his egoistical crap behind his stance.

"Those are not Mr. Gibbs' handprints," Jenny growled, baring her teeth. "As I said before, he _never_ hurt me. I was never safer than in his house, Mr. Bonner; and I _highly _suggest you refrain from trying to use me to insinuate otherwise. "

"I think it's quite obvious there is nothing to insinuate here, Ms. Shepard. You _were_ in a relationship with Mr. Gibbs at the time you sustained your injuries," he insisted, trying to regain control of his questioning.

"I was," she agreed with a nod. "However, I did not sustain those injuries at Mr. Gibbs' hand."

"Then how did you _sustain your injuries_?" Bonner demanded with impatient skepticism.

"_That_ has nothing to do with this case; so I see no reason to put my personal life on display in that way," Jenny snapped "I also fail to see how I can be of any help to you anymore." She turned to the judge abruptly. "May I step down now?" she bit out.

"Counselor?" the judge queried, and Bonner reluctantly nodded.

"That's all your honor," he acquiesced tightly.

"Do you have any questions for Ms. Shepard, Mr. Harris?" The judge asked of Jethro's lawyer.

The man was obviously about to respond in the affirmative until Jethro hissed something rather violently and they engaged in a short, muted disagreement before Harris finally answered.

"No, your honor," he replied, clearly disinclined to say so.

"Step down Ms. Shepard," the judge instructed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xx

The late, summer sun was setting in the sky by the time the judge had convened court for the day, painting the clouds hues of orange and pink and red.

"Jenny!" Jethro shouted, jogging down the courthouse steps; but she only scoffed, keeping with her quick stride, her heels clicking on the pavement.

"Jenny!" He barked more forcefully, and she pursed her lips, hastening her steps as her eyes glassed over.

She was almost running by the time he overtook her and pulled her back to him.

"Leave me alone!" she hissed, yanking her arm from his grasp and stumbled backwards away from him.

"Jenny," he pleaded, and she gasped in a shaky breath as she turned to him with an expression a mix of hurt, disbelief, and rage.

"Did you tell her?" she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper. His moment of silence was the only answer she needed, and she scoffed. "I did _everything_ to protect you from the fall out," she impressed on him, shaking her head, her hands trembling with rage. "I-I put my safety, my sanity on the back-burner. I let you _hurt_ me every day, whether it was with your words or your hands-" She stopped mid-sentence. "I had every right to tell anyone, but I didn't, and you!" She jabbed her finger into his chest. "You told her?"

She phrased the last sentence as a question, her whole body deflating with a helpless feeling of betrayal.

"No," he growled, looking around consciously. People were beginning to stare. "I didn't tell her."

"Then how did her lawyer find out?" she snapped. She lowered her voice, looking around cautiously before she stepped into his personal space. "I just lied on the stand for you. Do you understand that? I could go to jail."

"Damn right I understand," he hissed. "You shouldn't have done it. I never would have asked you to. I don't know how he found out," he insisted earnestly with his hands firmly wrapped around her biceps. When he was certain she wouldn't run he released her, but she kept looking at him with that harried, betrayed look on her face. "Jesus, Jen, why didn't you tell me. You never let me know."

"You saw the bruises, Jethro," she defended weakly.

"And you told me it was worse than it looked. I thought the bruises made it look worse. You let me think that," he insisted hoarsely.

"Of course I did," she sighed wearily. "What else did you expect me to do? Jethro, you hated yourself for what you did know." And just like that she shut down again. "I have to go," she announced.

"Jenny," he growled.

"I have to go," she hissed more insistently. "I have to get Kelly from ballet."

"No you don't," he said matter of factly. "She's spending the night with Maddie just like she does every other Friday."

"Well then I have to go back to work," she spat, making it crystal clear that her objective was to get as far away from him as possible. "People are staring, I have to go," she whispered, ducking her head as she slipped out of the little enclave in the bushes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Jenny sat at her desk late that night or early morning, which she wasn't exactly sure, when Jethro walked in toting a bag of fragrant Chinese food from her favorite take out place. He simply pulled his chair from his desk to hers and proceeded to unpack the food without a word.

She bit her lip, watching him through her lashes. He sat down and portioned the food out, leaving the extra in the containers.

"Don't even have to stay in a hotel for room service," she murmured in an attempt to break the tense silence, and he glared half heartedly but then, that was his way of showing affection.

He leaned back in his chair, chewing his food slowly and she propped her bare feet up in his lap.

"Move 'em," he ordered, but she simply raised an amused brow in challenge as she slid her chicken off of her fork with her teeth.

"No," she refused, chewing deliberately.

She grinned at his baleful glare. Leroy Jethro Gibbs was scared of feet, or rather he had a particularly severe aversion to having them within a mile of his food. The knowledge tickled her to no end and she never failed to torture him with it.

He set his carton down before grabbing her ankle firmly, and she her eyes widened for fear of what he was about to do.

"Jethro," she started to warn him, coiling her toes up as she attempted to pull her foot from his grasp; but he held fast to her leg.

His fingers danced along the base of her foot, and to her horror she let out an uncharacteristic, distinctively girly squeal.

"Jethro," she protested through an unwilling fit of muffled laughter as he continued his assault.

She kicked out and was satisfied to hear a rather pained groan from him whether foot connected with his gut.

"Serves you right," she gasped, trailing off into soft laughter.

That is how Stan Burley found them twenty minutes later, as he did many a Friday night: sitting far too close for just partners, laughing softly under the dim light of Jenny's desk lamp.

"Night," he bid them a little awkwardly. As was customary, he felt as if he were intruding on some moment.

He got a gruff repetition of his farewell from Gibbs and a just teasing enough not to be really rude reply from Jenny.

"Good night, Dumber," she giggled, using one of the many nicknames she had given him in tandem with Decker. Last week he had been Thing Two, and before that Jelly: in reference to his growing midsection; hence the reason he had been at the gym late on a Friday night.

When Jethro finally dropped her at her house, it was around two in the morning and the last thing Jenny was expecting was the stranger sitting on her doorstep, hiding in the shadows.

"Noemi?" she questioned in disbelief.

The young Puerto Rican looked absolutely devastated. Her long, dark hair looked like it needed to be washed; her big, honey brown eyes were bloodshot and rimmed in smudged, black makeup; and her cheeks were blotchy and streaked with mascara.

"I'm sorry," Noemi apologized. "I shouldn't be here-I-I'm intruding. I just, I didn't know where else to go. I went to my mom's, but it's been boarded up. I didn't know where to go," she repeated helplessly. She took Jenny's stunned and sleep-lacking silence as rejection and she nodded with a nervous laugh. "I should go. I'll go," she whispered, tucking her hair behind her ears as she moved past the redhead.

"Wait," Jenny called, catching the Puerto Rican by her wrist. She grabbed her red hair at the crown with her other hand, cursing her sudden inability to think like a normal person. "Come inside," she offered, leading the way.

Noemi hesitated a moment before she did as she was told with a small, but grateful smile.

"Do you want some tea or something?" Jenny asked lamely, shutting the door behind them.

"No thanks," Noemi declined softly and Jenny sighed, eyeing her sympathetically.

"You look like hell," Jenny laughed, though not unkindly, falling back into their teasing, comfortable relationship easily.

"Thanks," Noemi scoffed, trailing her finger along the foyer table, though it was accompanied by a soft laugh of her own.

"Come on, you can take a shower, change into some clean clothes," Jenny offered, nodding toward the stairs.

The two of them sat Indian style on Jenny's bed forty minutes later as if they were teenagers again.

Noemi looked slightly better: her hair was clean if still wet, as was her face despite the dark circles that sat under her eyes, and into was dressed in one of Jenny's old T-shirts and a pair of yoga pants while her things washed downstairs.

"Who's the kid?" Noemi asked, nodding in the direction of Kelly's school photo sitting on the bookshelf by Jenny's bed.

Jenny turned her head to look at the picture and a small smile graced her face.

"My daughter," she replied and Noemi gave her a happy smile, but it was dampened by something.

"You have a daughter?" the dark-haired beauty asked with a hint of disbelief. Jenny nodded, and Noemi held her hand out for the framed photo. "Can I see?" She requested and Jenny held the picture out to her.

"She's nine," Jenny murmured, answering what was always the next question.

"She's beautiful," Noemi praised, handing the photo back with a genuine smile.

"Thanks," Jenny murmured. She knew this was just small talk.

"I'm pregnant," Noemi sighed finally, her shoulders slumping hopelessly.

Jenny's brows shot up before she realized that for Noemi, this was obviously not good news.

"You're not happy?" she asked nonetheless.

Tears welled in Noemi's eyes and she looked down at her hands, picking at her nails before she looked back up at Jenny forlornly.

"He doesn't want it, or me," she murmured, and Jenny could only assume she was speaking of the father. "He told me it wasn't his. That I'd been screwing around."

She laughed mirthlessly, and Jenny reached out, grabbing her hand in comfort.

"Oh," Jenny sighed sadly. "Noemi, I'm sorry."

"I wasted ten years of my life on that prick," Noemi scoffed, pushing a hand through her wet hair. "I just skipped over college to follow him around the country. I was smart Jenny; now look at me."

"You're still smart," Jenny pointed out. "You can go back to school."

"With what money?" Noemi laughed mirthlessly. "I depended on my asshole of an ex for years. I'm a knocked up, thirty year old woman with no education or job experience and not a dollar to my name."

Jenny sighed heavily.

"You'll figure things out, Noemi. You always have," Jenny soothed.

"No," Noemi insisted. "You always figured things out for me. You got us out of things when we were kids, not me. You always were good at the politics, even with our parents." She sighed exhaled heavily. "What am I going to do?"

"Well, first, you're going to sleep. You can take the guest room. In the morning, your mother will be here. We'll go from there," Jenny said.

"You're too good of a person, Jenny," Noemi laughed.

"Hardly," Jenny mumbled, but she quickly pasted a smile on her face nonetheless.

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Jethro was pulled from his sleep by a persistent, shrill ringing echoing throughout his house. He groaned at the familiar ache at the base of his back. He had fallen asleep under the boat again. He sat up, rubbing his hand over the back of his head as he squinted his eyes at his watch. The long hand pointed to the five, the short one to the ten.

He'd only just gotten home less than two hours ago.

The disgruntled ex-Marine grumbled as he trudged up the rickety basement stairs in search of the source of the incessant ringing.

He glared at his home telephone as he reached the foot of the stairs. Only one person had that number who would even think of calling at such a God forsaken hour.

"What?" he growled, holding said telephone to his ear.

"Good morning to you to, Oscar," Jenny murmured sarcastically.

"Jenny, it's not even five-thirty," Jethro almost whined

"Oh are we playing the state the obvious game?" she asked sarcastically, before sighing with put upon acquiescence. "Fine. It's dark outside. I'm a woman, you're a man. Water is clear, turtles are slow. Really, Jethro you shouldn't start games you aren't good at."

"Jen," he growled. He was beginning to think a certain dose of biting sarcasm every day was vital to her survival.

"Noemi is here. She needs my help. If I'm not in by shift start, that's why," she murmured matter-of-factly.

"You couldn't have told me that at a normal hour?" he shot back, rubbing his brow in half-drowsy agitation.

"Now where would the fun in that be?" she teased mercilessly, and he simply slammed the phone back onto its hook before dragging himself up to bed with the intention of getting at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Jenny bit her lip with the decency to feel at least a bit guilty, reasoning that she would simply have to take him coffee.

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Two hours later, Jenny was sincerely rethinking her volunteering as mediator of the mother-daughter show-down happening in her kitchen, especially seeing as Magda had fallen back into irate Spanish; and Jenny was having trouble understanding half of said argument.

"What did I tell you?" Magda snapped at her daughter in their native tongue, slamming her palms onto Jenny's kitchen table. "I told you he was no good. I warned you."

"So I was stupid," Noemi admitted, though her angry tone was less than humble. "I was in love, and I made a mistake. That doesn't matter though, because whether you like it or not, I am in trouble!" Noemi's shoulders fell, and her eyes welled with tears. "I just want you to be my mother. I need you to tell me it will be alright."

"What you need is a job," Magda shot back, and Noemi flinched back as if she had been slapped. Magda sighed, raising her eyes to the ceiling, muttering a prayer for patience before she waved her daughter to her. "Come, mija," she murmured, and Noemi's eyes filled with a grateful hope as she made her way into her mother's arms.

"I messed up," Noemi whispered. "I thought he loved me, I swear," she cried. "I thought he would be happy."

Magda shushed her soothingly as she looked over her daughter's shoulder at Jenny with her mouth set in a grim line. Both women knew that Noemi had some tough choices ahead of her, and her life would never be the same again.

Jenny looked up in confusion at the sound of her phone ringing, but she ran across the room and snatched it from the wall for fear of distressing Noemi further.

"Hello?" she answered, listening for an answer; but she was met with silence. "Hello?" she repeated louder, and again there was silence. "Who is this?" she demanded, and she rolled her eyes, about to hang up until she heard the poorly concealed sound of girlish laughter. "Kelly?" she drawled, stepping into the living room, stretching the phone cord with her.

"No," came what sounded like a pre-pubescent Darth Vader promptly followed by uncontrollable girlish giggles from Kelly and then Maddie.

"Kelly, what are you doing? It's barely seven," Jenny murmured with an amused chuckle, allowing her head to rest against the wall.

"We're prank calling you mom," Kelly laughed. "Duh."

"Yes, well, do refrain from trying it on your father. I'm afraid I might have already done enough prank calling of my own."

Kelly giggled.

"Okay," she agreed. "Daddy's scary when he wakes up anyway."

Jenny laughed aloud, nodding in agreement.

"That he is," she murmured. "What time does Mrs. Tyler want me to get you?" She asked, deciding she may as well hit two birds with one stone.

"Can I spend the weekend, please?" Kelly asked, dragging the last word out, and Jenny could practically see her prayer hands.

The redhead pursed her lips, raising a brow.

"What does Mrs. Tyler say?" Jenny asked in pointed inquiry.

Kelly and Maddie liked to make plans on their own and then ask permission at the last minute. That was not how it worked.

"She says fine," Kelly replied a little too quickly, and Jenny crossed her arms, straightening her spine with a look of definite skepticism.

"Does she?" she murmured. "Is she awake?"

"Noo," Kelly drawled, sounding eerily like her father.

"Well, ask her to call me when she is, and we'll see," Jenny agreed with less than confidence in Kelly's credibility in terms of Maddie's mother's knowledge of the idea.

"Yay," Kelly gasped gleefully. "Okay, bye mom!" she bid Jenny farewell in a rush, but Jenny caught her before she could hang up as a thought dawned on her.

"Kelly Marie!" she barked, and Kelly was back in an instant with an almost visible air of timid apprehension.

"Yes ma'am," she whispered.

"Do not go prank calling anyone else at _any _hour," she wariness sternly.

"Mom," Kelly grumbled.

"Kelly," Jenny mocked. "I mean it Kelly," she insisted seriously.

Kelly let out a rather dramatic sigh, indicating that to refrain from doing so was causing shed a great hardship.

"Fine," she acquiesced nonetheless.

"Good," Jenny said with satisfaction. "Bye."

"Bye," Kelly sighed, and Jenny rolled her eyes. "Love you," Kelly mumbled as she did at the end of any phone conversation, but her disgruntled mood diminished the effect somewhat.

"Love you too," Jenny replied, laughing softly after the click of the call ending.

By the time Jenny stepped back into the kitchen, Noemi and Magda were once again in heated conversation, though it was more intense than angry. Jenny placed the phone on the hook, looking to the two of them with raised brows.

"Jenny, talk to her," Noemi insisted, turning to the redhead with imploring eyes.

"About?" Jenny asked slowly, looking between mother and daughter.

"Noemi needs a job," Magda interjected calmly, moving to her feet and crossing the room to stand in front of Jenny.

"Not yours," Noemi growled. "It's ridiculous."

"What other job do you expect to find?" Magda demanded, and Noemi shook her head.

"I am not knocking the type of job, _mama_," Noemi clarified. "I just refuse to take yours. You love this job."

"You need it more," Magda bit out, and it was at that moment that Jenny stepped in, having been lost in a haze of confusion.

"Wait, what is going on?" she demanded, speaking loud enough to be heard above both of the other two women in the room. When she had left the room five minutes ago, Magda had only just started to console her daughter. Now, they had jumped to taking jobs?

Magda took Jenny's hands in her tanned arthritic ones.

"I do love this job, and you, and Kelly; but Noemi needs it. She is young, and she knows this house like the back of her hand. You say nothing, but I've gotten old. I've got arthritis in my bones, and I am slow. You should have fired me a long time ago," Magda said, her dark eyes boring into Jenny's green ones.

Jenny scoffed, rolling her eyes good naturedly.

"You do fine Magda," Jenny murmured. "And I wouldn't fire you. I've told you that you have a job here as long as you want it."

Magda smiled sadly.

"Fine is not good. Perhaps it is time for me to retire, and this," She waved her hand absently, referring to Noemi's pregnancy, "is just a sign."

"Well, what if I don't you to _retire_?" Jenny demanded, crossing her arms over her chest as she had as a child when she did not get her way.

"What if Jenny doesn't want a new housekeeper?" Noemi demanded, trying to get her mother to see reason.

"Then I will quit, and she will be forced to get one," Magda snapped with a determined glint in her eye.

"And what will you do?" Jenny bit back.

Magda's husband had died years ago, and before that he had been in and out of the hospital. When he passed, he had left Magda with a mountain of medical bills. Jenny knew because she had helped her organize them. Most of their savings had been depleted, and Magda needed her job if she wanted to keep her house. It had taken a second mortgage to cover some of the bills.

"I will be fine. You do not know everything, Jenny," Magda murmured with a twinkle in her eye.

"Magda," Jenny sighed in exasperation. When the older woman's mind was set on something there was no changing it; and it seemed her mind was set on this. "We'll talk later," she said resignedly.

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Jenny walked into work with five minutes to spare dressed in a pair of running shorts and a hoodie she had tossed over a tank top.

"You forget your big girl clothes, Red?" Burley teased, grinning up at her as she dropped her bag on the floor.

"Gibbs has them," she shot back snarkily.

"Yeah?" Burley asked, a little too happy about that idea.

"No," Gibbs growled, storming around the corner, shooting a glare in Jenny's direction. He dropped into his chair with a scowl. "Neither one of you were here working last night, so you better have something on the Henderson case," Gibbs said, directing his statement at Burley and Decker as he turned on his computer.

He looked up as a shadow fell over his desk, and Jenny stood there with a tall cup of what smelled like Jamaican blend in hand. She placed the cup on his desk, quirking a brow; and he followed her gaze to eye the coffee warily.

"Oh it isn't poisoned," she hissed, rolling her eyes. "I suppose I felt some contrition over interrupting your beauty sleep," she sighed with a shrug.

"_Contrition_?" he asked, scrunching his face up as if hearing the word actually caused him some physical pain.

"I felt bad because I was mean to you," she deadpanned.

He smirked and took the coffee, holding it up in thanks. She nodded before returning to her desk as Gibbs returned his attention to the men of the team.

"Give me something," he barked, and Burley leaped from his chair.

"Wife had a couple of minor, unrelated accidents. Nothing we can make stick to the husband," Stan said, rubbing the back of his head as if the sound of Gibbs' voice triggered some kind of muscle memory response.

"If there's something, they hid it real pretty well, boss," Decker agreed. "We were going to talk to the girl's teacher this morning."

"Take Shepard," he ordered, flinging his finger in the direction of the elevators.

Jenny and Will shared a brief look, then looked to Gibbs before they shrugged; and grabbed their bags, slinging them over their shoulders.

"What do you want me to do, boss?" Burley asked as Jenny and Decker hooked their guns and badges onto the proper place on their belts.

"Make those unrelated incidents related," Gibbs growled, looking up at the younger man pointedly.

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"So, what do you think about this one?" Decker murmured as they strode up to the entrance of Falls Church Middle School. "Twelve year old girl shooting her father for beating her mother?"

He raised both brows with a half shake of his head in disbelief at the whole situation. She met his eyes briefly with a pointed stare, quirking one of her brows at him as if to say, 'what would anyone think?'

After stopping in the front office, they walked down the seventh grade hallway with the school principal in tow: a statuesque, middle aged woman with a kind smile and freckled skin.

"I was so sorry to hear what happened with Brenna," the brunette murmured, shaking her head sympathetically. "It's awful isn't it?"

"Terrible," Jenny agreed out of what felt like obligation to do so.

The principal nodded, and held out a hand to still the Jenny and Decker as they came upon a door with the name, Ms. Consolli in laminated, block letters.

"Just a moment," she instructed before she pushed the door open, revealing a young, Italian woman with long, dark hair and kind, doe eyes speaking animatedly with a warm, alto voice in front of a class of students.

Said woman paused as she caught sight of her boss standing there. She gave the older woman a curious smile

"Ms. Consolli, there are some people here who'd like to speak with you if you have a moment," the principal announced, clearly trying to keep the gravity of the situation from the children staring at her in intense curiosity, though her eyes stressed the importance that the Italian _make_ a minute.

"Yes, of course," the young woman agreed. She turned to her class. "Class, start reading chapter eight. If you finish before I'm back, answer the questions on page forty. I expect you on your best behavior," she stressed.

As the pretty Italian woman out of the classroom, she pulled the door behind her, looking between the three other people there expectantly.

"These are Agents Shepard and Decker from NCIS," the principal introduced them, motioning to both Jenny and Will respectively. "They'd like to ask you some questions about Brenna."

"Anything I can do to help," the dark haired teacher sighed in agreement with a tight smile and a brief nod. She turned to her boss, nodding her head back at her classroom. "Would you?" she requested, and the principal nodded, pushing the door open to keep an eye on the class.

As the door closed once more with a click of the lock sliding into place, Brenna's teacher and both Jenny and Decker began a slow stroll down the hallway.

"Ms. Consolli, have you noticed any changes in Brenna's behavior?" Decker asked, taking the lead on the questioning. "Has she been withdrawn, acting out more than usual, anything like that?"

"She's a wonderful student, very cooperative, always helpful," the teacher praised, "but I may have noticed a slight change in her demeanor. Nothing serious; at least I didn't think so. I'd say it started a little while after her father got back, a month or so maybe. She was very excited to have him back at first, of course. She was talking about him constantly." The Italian furrowed her brow. "Then, I don't know what happened. She just didn't anymore. She didn't talk about home at all. She used to be the first one to share her weekend at the beginning of class. Now, her hand never goes up."

"Have you ever noticed any marks on her, bruises?" Jenny asked, and the teacher's eyes widened.

"No, no," she insisted. "Oh, God," she gasped, her face the picture of concern for her student. "Do you think that's what this is?"

"We're just exploring every possibility, ma'am," Decker assured her with a curt nod, and the woman seemed to visibly relax.

"Mr. Henderson would never, nor Mrs. Henderson. They're always at every function, every student teacher conference. Of course Mr. Henderson's job keeps him away quite a bit. I mean, we've had to reschedule a conference or two but with Mrs. Henderson's pregnancy it's understandable. I understand it had her feeling pretty ill for a while."

Jenny and Decker shared a look of surprise.

"Pregnancy?" Jenny asked, raising her brows slightly, and Brenna's teacher nodded with a smile.

"Yeah, she's about four months on I think," she said, before she changed the subject back to Brenna. "Brenna is a bright child, but she is still a child. Are you sure there isn't any possibility that this is just an accident being blown out of proportion?

"As Agent Decker said, we are exploring all possibilities," Jenny said, and the teacher nodded, sensing that they thought it was far from just an accident.

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help," she apologized sincerely.

"Well, if you think of anything, even if it seems like it doesn't matter, please call," Jenny requested, handing the teacher her card.

"I will," the olive-skinned woman agreed. "I just want to see Brenna back in school and doing well."

Jenny smiled.

"I have no doubt, Ms. Consolli. She will be," Jenny murmured.

"So, what now?" Decker muttered, looking to Jenny as they walked out of the school. In all honesty, she should have been asking him, but she was a good agent; she had the potential to be one of the best and he valued her opinion. He wouldn't be surprised if she was his boss one day.

Jenny walked in step with Will, striding across the parking lot with determination in her step.

"We go talk to that family again," she replied as they reached the car, pushing her fingers back through her hair as the wind whipped at her long locks. "I can feel it, Will. This wasn't just an accident.

"We go talk to the family," he agreed.

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"Yeah," Jenny murmured into her phone. "Yeah, we're pulling in now. We'll let you know."

She ended the call, and turned to Will as he turned the car off and pulled the key out of the ignition.

"Burley's still working on connecting the paper trails. Gibbs says watch the kid," she relayed, and Decker furrowed his brows as they got out of the car.

"The kid?" he repeated skeptically.

"Watch her reactions. Kids are worst at hiding things," Jenny said with a smirk.

"Finally, you're here," they heard in a nagging, classic 'old-lady' voice; and they turned in the direction of the voice to see a short, elderly woman standing in the next yard with an agitated look on her face.

As they walked up the Henderson's driveway, raised voices grew louder and audibly angrier.

"Ma'am?" Decker asked, and the old woman flung her arm in the direction of the Henderson home; and both Jenny's and Decker's gazes followed before returning to the woman.

"They're at it again," she griped in reference to the shouting couple next door. "They've been shouting for hours. They were shooting firecrackers off this morning."

Jenny and Decker both looked to the house in concern, and Decker took off. Jenny waved the woman off with the reassurances that they would take care of it before following behind him.

What they found when they reached the front porch was nothing short of morbid. Jenny gasped, turning her head, and Decker couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Jesus," he muttered, clenching his teeth.

What they assumed was the family dog, a male golden retriever laid there with a bullet in his side.

"Mr. and Mrs. Henderson!" Decker barked, banging on the door. "NCIS! Open the door!"

There was a scream and a commotion, and Decker inhaled before kicking the door in, cursing the pain that shot up his leg. He and Jenny rushed into the house, guns drawn. They ran through the rooms, following the shouting.

"Damn it, stop! I can't take the goddamn crying!"

"Tom please," Carrie whispered, her voice coming out in a tear strangled whine.

Jenny and Decker burst into the room, surveying the scene before them. Thomas stood in the middle of the floor waving a gun. Carrie laid on the floor against an end table, looking up at her husband with distressed, tear-filled eyes. There was a fresh red mark on the side of her face as if she had been smacked, and a long scratch along her arm as if the corner of the table had caught her as she fell. Brenna stood in the corner behind her mother as if she had been told explicitly to do so; and Carrie held a protective hand over her stomach.

"Mr. Henderson," Jenny tried, holding out a wary hand. "Mr. Henderson, you're scaring your wife," she coaxed, trying to make eye contact with the man who was clearly losing it.

"I can't take the crying," he insisted, and Jenny nodded.

"Gunny," Jenny murmured, hooking her gun on her belt and held up both hands as a white flag. "Tom, give me the gun," she requested, holding one hand out. He seemed as if he might be calming down. "You don't want to hurt anyone, I know. Just give me the gun, we'll go down to NCIS and sort this whole thing out."

It was like a switch flipped, and he had the gun turned on Jenny and Decker.

"No!" he shouted, his eyes wide with anger, and at the very recesses of his gaze she swore she saw fear. He shook his head vehemently. "No, you're not taking me anywhere. You give me _your_ gun," he demanded, motioning to her belt with his. "Both of you!" he barked.

"Gunny, you know we can't do that," Jenny tried to reason, but Thomas Henderson would see none.

"Give it to me or I will _shoot_ her," he shouted, turning the gun back on his wife, who gasped, shutting her eyes in fear of what was to come.

Both agents hesitated, and he fired a shot into the floor just beside her. Carrie screamed, and broke down in sobs. Brenna's mingled with her mother's and both Jenny and Decker jumped involuntarily.

"Okay," Decker agreed, holding his own palm out in surrender, and he held out his gun. Jenny hesitated a moment more before she did the same, and the Gunny lunged forward, snatching them from them. He tossed them onto the couch carelessly, and whipped his own gun back to his wife.

"God damn it, Carrie! Shut the hell up!" he shouted, and she shook her head helplessly.

"I can't Tom," she whispered, looking up at him with watery eyes. "I can't. You're scaring me."

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The clicking of keys and the low hum of conversations of NCIS that had been the only noise heard in the MCRT cubicle for hours faded into the background as Stan Burley shot from his chair, sending it flying back into his filing cabinet with a resounding _bang._

Gibbs looked up expectantly, his piercing blue eyes insinuating that the younger man had better have something important to say.

"His last tour, he was taken as a prisoner of war," Burley said, and Gibbs narrowed his eyes at him in irate disbelief.

"And it took you this long to find that?" he barked; and Burley assumed the look of a puppy being reprimanded.

"Boss, they kept it under wraps. For whatever reason they did," Burley insisted, and Gibbs shook his head.

"How long?" he snapped.

"Three months," Burley replied, his face the picture of sympathy for the soldier. "He only made it out on lucky opportunity. Who knows what they did to him before that. Boss, the guy's lucky he could walk out of there."

Gibbs was about to lay into the blonde agent until his phone rang; and he simply settled for a glare that said the tongue-lashing was only put on hold.

Stan saw his face darken before he set his mouth in a firm line, and his features turned hard. Gibbs slammed the phone down so hard it was a miracle he didn't break it.

"Dammit!" he growled, and went straight to punching in the number he knew all too well, only hoping she would answer. If she didn't, that meant they were already in the house. There was no telling what could have happened.

Sure enough, he got no answer; and he shot from his own chair.

"Boss?" Burley asked as Gibbs grabbed his badge and gun from his drawer, hooking them onto his belt.

"Henderson's holding his family hostage in the house. Neighbor called when they heard shots fired," Gibbs replied in response to the unspoken question. "He's got Shepard and Decker too."

"Damn it," Burley sighed heavily, repeating his boss' earlier exclamation. There was a kid involved, and half of their team.

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The air in the Henderson house was suffocating, and charged with the pandemonium that had erupted in the span of thirty minutes. Brenna was screaming. Caroline was crying; and the Gunny was growing more agitated every minute, barking at them all to shut up. The FBI negotiators had been working nonstop. The phone had been ringing off the hook, and Henderson had eventually yanked it out of the wall.

Jenny sat on the floor with Will's sleeve around her arm as a makeshift bandage. Her phone had gone off, and Thomas had snapped when she made the mistake of reaching for it. Now, she had a bullet in her shoulder, and Thomas Henderson had shot a federal agent.

The reflections of flashing lights on the window and the sounds of wailing sirens only increased as the street outside the Henderson home crawled with FBI, local LEOs and emergency vehicles. SWAT and NCIS were en route, and despite the sun shining outside, the situation was looking less and less optimistic.

"Tom, she's losing blood," Decker tried to reason with the soldier while keeping an eye on Jenny who winced in pain every time she moved. His shirt was slowly staining redder every minute. "She needs medical help. She needs a doctor. Let her go, you can keep me."

"No," Thomas refused vehemently. "You both stay here. I know what'll happen the minute you open that door. They'll rush in here, and they'll shoot me."

"No one's going to shoot you, Tom," Decker insisted. "I'll make sure of it. Letting her go is a sign of good faith."

Jenny could have strangled Decker in that moment. He was bargaining for the wrong hostage, and she didn't want to be the opposing force to come at Henderson and make him feel like he was being attacked. No one would leave then.

"I'm fine," she hissed at Decker, her eyes flashing. "You need to get Caroline and Brenna out of here."

She'd never been shot before, and it hurt like hell; but that sure as hell wasn't going to keep her from doing her job; and right now, her job was to get Brenna and Caroline out of the house safely.

"Tom, all of this stress isn't good for Caroline. It isn't good for the baby," Jenny tried, and Caroline looked to her in surprise, wondering how they had found out.

"You want to go, Carrie?" Henderson demanded, the gun shaking in his hand as he looked at her with glazed eyes.

"Yes," Caroline whispered. "Yes, Tom, let us go, please. At least let Brenna go. Tommy, baby, you're _scaring_ her," Caroline bit out.

"You want to go, Bri? You want to leave?" Henderson asked of his daughter, and she looked at him with her big, crystal blue orbs and tear-stained cheeks.

Her bottom lip trembled, and her nostrils flared. She nodded with gasping sobs, her long, dark hair swaying with her movements.

Caroline saw it before anyone.

"No," she gasped, shooting to her feet in a burst of Herculean strength, and she stood just in time to take the bullet that was meant for her daughter.

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As Gibbs and Decker stepped out of the NCIS truck clad in bullet proof-vests, they immediately became a part of the split second pause as the deafening sound of a gunshot sliced through the air followed by a blood-curdling scream, before chaos enveloped the scene. Gibbs flashed his badge, and they were permitted past one of the road blocks.

"What happened?" Gibbs barked at an FBI agent with a generous middle, and the younger man held his hand to his ear, listening into his earpiece.

His face darkened and he turned to Gibbs.

"Mother's down," he said, the words feeling harsh yanked from his throat.

"Snipers on the roof?" Gibbs asked, and the FBI agent nodded.

"They just need a clear shot and a go ahead," he confirmed, and Gibbs nodded curtly in satisfaction.

Despite his steely exterior demeanor, internally he was going through hell, because he saw Jenny in Caroline's red hair, and Kelly in Brenna's blue eyes. And he saw himself in the Gunny. He saw what could have been. In that moment, he had never been more grateful to Jenny for making the decision she did two years ago, for finding the strength to leave and take Kelly with her.

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Jenny watched Caroline fall to the ground, and Henderson after that the bullet from Decker's back up weapon meeting its target. Her mind was flying a mile a minute, and she felt like she was falling out of touch with reality. And she wished whoever was screaming would shut the hell up until she realized it was her. That pained sound was coming from her throat because it wasn't Caroline who fell. It was her; and it was Kelly, not Brenna watching her father take her mother's life.

She snapped her mouth shut, forcing herself to push Jenny back and be Agent Shepard because Decker was trying to keep Caroline from bleeding out, and there was a scared little girl in the corner of the room who needed that.

"Brenna," she started, moving toward the hysterical child. "Brenna, sweetheart, look at me," she coaxed, trying to keep the child's attention on her as SWAT, FBI, and NCIS flooded the house.

The young brunette fell into her arms, and Jenny wrapped her good one around her comfortingly as the girl's body shook with inconsolable sobs and her tears soaked through Jenny's shirt.

Jenny looked up over Brenna's head, surveying the scene. Paramedics rushed to get Caroline onto a stretcher and federal agents crawled through the house like it was the place for some federal agent convention. She watched Burley clap Decker on the back before her gaze drifted and she locked eyes with Jethro. She sighed heavily, holding Brenna tighter to her.

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Despite the hole in her arm and what had to be a fair amount of pain, it had still taken an order from Gibbs to send Jenny to the hospital even after the social workers had taken Brenna.

"What happened in there?" Gibbs asked of Decker as the ambulance took off with sirens wailing, and the younger man knew he was likely talking about how Jenny had managed to get a bullet in her shoulder.

"Jenny was talking him down. He looked like he was calming down, then he just snapped. He took our guns, said he'd shoot the wife if we didn't. About fifteen minutes in there, Shepard's phone went off, and everything went to hell," Decker murmured. "The wife started screaming and he finally just lost it."

In Gibbs' mind, that made it his own fault that Jenny was shot. He'd made that call. He knew he'd made that call.

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By the time Jethro made it to the hospital Jenny sat in a bed with a gauze dressing over her wound, a sling on her arms, and a weary look on her face.

She looked up as he walked into the room, but she said nothing.

"You alright?" he asked gruffly, taking a seat on the end of the bed, moving her feet onto his lap.

"Well, I got shot," she murmured sardonically, and he glared.

"Yeah, I know," he said, "What were you thinking reaching for your phone?"

"What were you thinking calling me?" she shot back, and she raised a brow with a dark smirk at the guilty surprise that flashed across his face. "Didn't think I knew yet, huh?"

"Christ, Jenny, I'm sorry," he muttered, and she shook her head, chewing on the inside of her lip.

"I just want to go home, and get clean in my own shower, and sleep in my own bed," she sighed, and he nodded.

"I'll take you home," he agreed, setting her feet back on the bed as he moved to his feet.

She swallowed thickly and nodded silently, but she refused to meet his eyes.

"Caroline?" she asked of the woman who she might have actually been able to consider a friend had the circumstances of their reaquaintence been different.

He pressed his lips together sympathetically. The mother was in critical condition. It would take some divine intervention for her to make it.

"That poor girl," Jenny whispered, referring to Brenna. "She just saw her father kill her mother and then she saw her father shot to the ground. How will she be alright after that?"

"She won't," he said truthfully. "Ellen wants you to call her," he said abruptly and Jenny's head shot up.

"Why?" she asked. "Is Kelly alright?"

"She's fine," he assured her, reaching out to steady her as she slipped her feet into her shoes. "She saw it on the news. She wants to know you're okay."

"She called you?" Jenny asked in surprise. For some reason Ellen and Jethro had never really clicked. They tolerated each other for their children's sake, but then again Jethro wasn't exactly known for his people skills.

"Yeah," he murmured shortly.

"Come on," he said, waving her toward the door and she sighed, walking through it in front of him.

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Jenny walked through the door front door to her home with Jethro behind her, her phone at her ear.

"Yeah, Ellie I'm fine, really," Jenny assured her friend. "I just need a hot shower and a good night of sleep."

Jenny paused as Ellen obviously said something and the redhead shook her head.

"Don't tell her anything," she instructed. "It'll be better from me when she can see I'm alright. You said she didn't see the news?" She paused again before she nodded. "Okay, yeah. Good night, El."

Jenny tossed her phone on the couch and turned to Jethro, who was standing g there staring at her expectantly.

"What?" she demanded irritably.

"Have at it," he said with such an air of omniscience it irked her.

"Have at what?" she snapped.

"You're pissed," he said matter of a factory, and she looked at him with agitated disbelief.

"And just what do I have to be so angry about, oh all-knowing one?" she snipped sarcastically; and it should have been a red flag right there that she was so angry over such an infinitesimal observation.

"I don't know," he said. "But you are. You're pissed at me."

She scoffed, turning on her heel toward her stairs with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

"I'm not angry at you," she growled, walking up the stairs.

"You're agitated for a God damn reason, Jen," he shouted after her before following behind her.

She spun on him with an irate look on her face as he stepped into her room behind her, but behind her anger was pain and disappointment. In who he didn't know.

"Yes!" she hissed, her body rigid. "Because I should have seen it. I lived it. I should have seen it in him, in his daughter, and I damn well should have seen it in his wife. I should've seen it, and I _would've_," she growled, pointing a finger at him sharply, "if it hadn't been for your divorce on my mind."

"Hell, Jen, I didn't see it either," he reminded her; and be should have seen it even more than she.

"Because you _were_ it," she stressed, shaking with emotion. "I _saw_ it every day. I didn't see it soon enough then, and I didn't see it soon enough this time either. That girl is an orphan because of me."

"Jen, you can't think like that," he warned. He had seen that line of thinking destroy many a good agent.

"Why not?" she ground out through her teeth.

"Because it isn't your fault," he barked. "It's not anybody's fault but the people who drove Henderson to that place. "You did everything you could."

"How do you know that?" she demanded. "How do you know I couldn't have done more Jethro?" she insisted

"Because I know you," he said, pointing a finger at her. "I know you gave it everything, because I have _never_ seen you give any less."

"That could have been me, Jethro," she whispered, swallowing thickly and inhaling through her nose as tears stung at her eyes. "I saw her fall and I screamed because I saw _myself_," she admitted, holding her open palms to her chest.

He pulled her to him, and she buried her face in his chest; and she cried.

"I thought you were dead?" he mumbled into her hair as her sobs quieted, and she gasped in a tilted her head to look up at with inquiring, red rimmed eyes. Soon as we got to the scene there was that gunshot, and you screamed. That FBI agent, Fornell, he said 'your agent' and I thought somebody had mowed me over with a bulldozer."

"Jethro," she whispered hoarsely.

"Damn it," Jen he groaned as she pressed her lips to his collar bone. "You just took a bullet."

"Then be careful," she mumbled against his skin before looking up to meet his eyes. "I am not taking 'no' for an answer."

"You don't want this," he insisted. " You're head isn't on straight."

"Don't tell me what I want, Jethro," she said. "Jethro, I need this right now," she said, hating how needy she sounded. "Please," she whispered, and he pushed his hands through her hair, bringing her lips to his.

She sighed a soft sigh of relief, moaning quietly against his mouth. She brought a hand to the back of his neck; and he let his jacket hit the floor as he backed her across the room and onto her bed. He trailed kisses along the column of her neck as he popped the button on her pants and she whispered his name.

Every brush of his lips and every touch of his hands over her skin was both white hot pleasure and cool relief. Having him touch her again was something more than she ever could have imagined. Maybe she had simply forgotten just how good sex could be, or rather how good sex with Jethro could be.

And as she dug her fingers into his shoulder, she thought to herself that she'd be damned if ever let herself forget again.

* * *

Teehee :D

I couldn't keep up the song and dance as Kikilia14 put it, much longer. Jeez it was killing _me_ lol.

s/n: I've always wondered what a prepubescent James Earl Jones sounded like. I mean , I wonder if one day he just came out with that voice and it scared the hell out of him. *giggles*

-Feedback is as always much appreciated. :)

Speaking of thanks a ton to, Autopsy Gremlin, TeamCarlisleandEsme8, AzNeRd, magiclover13, ncisgirl2389, Kikilia14, alix33, torontogirl12, chris.c03, left my heart in Paris, lolaughoutloud123, and ladybugsmomma lot last chapter!

I'm really glad you guys are enjoying the story :)


	6. Chapter 6

_I can now see that setting a specific day of the week for updates is clearly not a good idea; because I hate to say one thing and then fall behind. So, I'll just say from now on, keep a look out. :) But, you know, I mean if you want a general time frame, then I think every two weeks rather than once a week is more realistic for me given the length of the chapters I seem to be coming up with._

_Remember the days when I somehow found the time and muse power to post every other day? Ha! That's like a fantasy now lol._

_Even still, you guys are amazing. Your reading and enjoying the story and letting me know it makes me find time to write and enjoy doing it. :)_

_ xoxo- M :]_

* * *

Jethro was pulled from his sleep as the morning sun bloomed over the horizon, filling the room with bright, warm light.

He groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand before he looked to the other side of the bed, expecting with fifty-fifty certainty to see Jenny there. Instead he was met by only cold, albeit wrinkled sheets. He rubbed his hand across his mouth and exhaled, pushing a hand through his short cut.

Last night had been a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea; but she had pushed, and he'd always had a tough time saying 'no' to her under any context. At least she wouldn't be at work for a few days, doctor's orders,but knowing Jenny she'd be there tomorrow morning. Now, the only the only task was getting out of her house before she made her way back.

He pushed himself up with a groan at his cracking bones; and set his feet on the floor, ignoring the cold shock of the hardwood floor as he stood and snatched his clothes from the floor. He pulled them on quickly and threw the door open before heading down the hallway and down the stairs.

When he rounded the corner into the kitchen in search of at least a semi-decent cup of coffee, he jumped only because he had not been expecting to see Jenny as she turned, holding a glass of water to her lips . Her long legs were bare-she wasn't wearing anything aside from her robe, which hit her mid-thigh; and her long, red hair fell over one shoulder.

She peered at him expectantly over the glass before a look of slightly confused amusement crossed her face at the almost bewildered look on his face.

"You're here," he said, and she leaned back against the counter, wrinkling her brow.

"I _am_ here," she agreed in a slightly patronizing tone with a small smirk though she eyed him skeptically. "I do tend to be at my house in he mornings. "Did you hit your head getting up and forget who you slept with?" she quipped. "Or did you dream I was Rita Hayworth, and that's what you expected to wake up to?"

"It's barely six. You weren't in bed," he said in defense. "And who the hell is Rita Hayworth?"

She ignored his question, simply rolling her eyes in response before responding to his former statement.

"I couldn't sleep," she offered in explanation, looking to her shoulder for elaboration. It was then that she realized what his train of thought had been, and she quirked the corners of her mouth up into something reminiscent of a smile. "You thought I left," she deduced. There was a moment of poignant silence before she sighed, setting her glass on the counter behind her. "Well, for one it is _my_ house, so I probably would have woken you up and kicked you out if I woke up regretting my judgment. And there's also the fact that you drove me in your car, so even if I wanted to leave, I think I want to not have blisters on my feet more," she teased, her eyes sparkling.

"Jenny," he growled, and she smiled before looking him over.

"Were you going somewhere?" she asked knowingly, taking in his state of full dress.

"You know damn well where I was going," he shot back, and she grinned.

"Well, seeing as I'm perfectly content with my judgment, you're welcome to _not_ go so long as you feel the same," she murmured, giving him a pointed look as she moved to walk past him only to have him pull her back by her good arm.

He backed her against the kitchen counter, trapping her between his arms as he pressed his hands on the countertop. He looked at her before he looked down at the counter over her shoulder. "You know how I feel, Jenny," he said before he met her gaze again.

She gave him a small almost sad smile and tilted her head to the side.

"No, Jethro," she contradicted him, shaking her head. "I don't." She rested her palm against his chest, keeping her gaze there before she looked back up at him earnestly. "But that's okay." She paused. "For now."

She watched him warily as he narrowed his eyes in curiosity and reached out and to push her hair away from her neck. He smirked a satisfied, egotistical smirk; and took a small step back.

"What?" Jenny demanded, glaring at him; and she reached up to rub her neck self-consciously.

He grinned and grabbed her toaster up to hand it out to her. She snatched it from him suspiciously and turned her neck so that it was reflected in the small appliance. She narrowed her eyes at the blurry reflection of a purplish-red bruise, and her eyes widened.

"Jethro!" she gasped, bringing the toaster closer to her neck. He laughed and she glared up at him in annoyance. "It isn't funny, Gibbs," she bit out and slammed the toaster onto the counter before she shoved him in the shoulder and brought her hand back to cover the tell-tale mark.

"Where's your housekeeper?" he asked, surprised she was not there doting on Jenny hand and foot, checking on her every five minutes and screaming at her to get back in bed.

"With her pregnant offspring," Jenny replied airily; and he raised a brow in indication that she was to elaborate. "Noemi needs her," was all she said.

"You're going to starve," he said matter-of-factly, and she assumed a rather affronted look.

"I am not an invalid, Jethro. I _can_ cook," she insisted. "I happen to remember that you like my cooking just fine."

"When's the last time you had to cook?" he demanded skeptically. "Or clean anything?"

"I cook when Magda has her day off," she replied loftily. "What, did you think I just let your daughter starve two days out of the week?"

He raised a brow skeptically. They both knew that Magda more often than not cooked extra food the nights before her days off; and there were plenty of days when Kelly was not with Jenny on Magda's days off. He wouldn't be surprised if she ate nothing when Kelly wasn't there.

"Fine," Jenny he acquiesced snippily with a one-shoulder shrug. "But there is a difference between being not having the skill to cook and having the luxury of being able to choose not to. I think I can handle three days without my housekeeper."

"Sit down," he instructed, pointing to the kitchen table, and she furrowed her brows in question though she did as she was told. "What are you doing?" she asked as he opened the fridge and pulled out eggs and flour.

"Making breakfast," he replied with a hint of exasperated annoyance, and she let out a short giggle.

"You're joking, right?" she laughed, but as he cracked an egg in a bowl with a deliberate stare in her direction it became very evident that he was _not_. Her eyes widened, and she shot out of her chair, coming up behind him to peer over his shoulder in scrutiny. "Your idea of cooking usually involves something being broken, and a substantial amount of mess in my kitchen. In fact your approach to anything results in a mess," she grumbled derisively.

"Can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs," he replied cleverly, and she glared.

"Jethro, you're going to burn my house down," she whined, and he rolled his eyes.

"You think I just let your daughter starve?" he shot back mockingly with a smirk as he started beating the eggs.

Jenny placed her hand on her hip, and raised a brow.

"According to Kelly, the meal of choice at your house is _pizza_," she said, her tone indicating that she was less than happy about that.

"Calcium, vegetables, carbs, and protein," he said, surprising her with his apparent knowledge of the food pyramid. "Best meal a kid can have."

"Ha ha," she deadpanned. "Hardly."

"Sit down, Jen," he demanded once again, and she left him with a baleful glare before strolled back over to the table, and sat down slowly and deliberately under his gaze. She smiled tightly and batted her eyelashes at him as if to say, 'satisfied?' and crossed one leg over the other.

He nodded in satisfaction and went back to cooking what she assumed would be pancakes. That was all he knew how to make-that and any grilled, red meat.

As she had guessed, they sat in her living room thirty minutes later eating golden hotcakes; but there was also a large mess in her kitchen. At least he hadn't set anything on fire.

She sighed dramatically turning her head from the light of the television to look up at him from his lap.

"Jethro," she drawled, and he looked down at her with indifferent expectance. "I'm bored," she announced.

"The morning's barely started," he scoffed. "How are you bored?"

"I have nothing to do, so I am bored," she elaborated snippily.

"You expecting me to do something about it?" he asked, returning his gaze to the television screen. Why he didn't know. It wasn't as if he were really watching whatever it was that was flashing across the screen.

"No, I just thought I'd share," she bit back sarcastically. "Give me something to do, or I'm going to work until I have to get Kelly," she said. It was not a threat; rather it was a deliberate statement.

He held her head up so that he could stand; and he crooked a finger at her.

"Come on," he beckoned. "We're going to church."

She blanched slightly with a grimace.

"I don't do church," she reminded him. He had barely gotten her to go when they were together. She had only done so for sake of introducing some type of religion into Kelly's life. Now, Jethro was always the one to take her.

"Today you do," he said. "You wanted something to do."

"_Church_ is hardly what I had in mind," she mumbled. In fact, she had planned on something the church typically frowned upon.

"Be good for you," he teased.

"Oh will it?" she murmured. "I have a feeling I'm already damned. I don't think last night helped matters much either."

He gave her a lopsided smirk.

"That's what confession is for," he shot back.

"What am I going to wear?" she called after him as he headed for the stairs. "I haven't been to Mass since I graduated from Catholic school."

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Two and a half hours later, Jenny sat in church next to Jethro in a pretty, navy blue, knee length dress. She sighed softly, allowing her head to fall to his shoulder; her curled, red hair complimenting the tan color of his twill suit.

"I am more bored than I was at home," she mumbled under her breath, just loud enough for only him to hear.

He shushed her like a small child and pinched her leg sharply in retaliation.

"Ow!" she hissed, earning them a glare from the small Irish, old woman next to them; and Jenny finally settled herself as if she were five years old again, forced into behaving under nothing more than the sharp gaze of Magdalena Cruz.

Jenny huffed before lowering her head back to Jethro's shoulder slowly once again.

When Mass convened an hour later, Jenny walked with Jethro to speak with the priest, though she was dreading doing so. She knew the priest; and he would likely make some remark about her acute absence in church.

"Gunny," the priest, a former Marine himself, greeted Jethro as he took his hand firmly in his own. "It's been a couple of weeks," he remarked, and Jethro smirked.

"Work," he replied in excuse for his absence; and the priest smiled.

"You're the boss. You can always make time for the Lord, Jethro," the priest reprimanded gently.

"I try, Father," Jethro replied and the priest nodded before turning to Jenny, who was trying very hard not to look like a misbehaved child under reprimand.

"Who is this stranger?" the priest asked teasingly; and Jenny pressed her lips into a tight smile.

"Good morning, Father," she greeted him, preparing herself for whatever slew of teasing remarks he planned to make at her expense.

"It's good to see your face," the priest said with a warm smile, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "I'd almost forgotten what it looked like."

She laughed mirthlessly.

"Always the comic, Father," she murmured, scrunching her nose.

"Well, no one has witty comebacks for the priest," he said, and Jenny smiled despite herself.

"I'll see you next week, both of you?" he asked, though it came out as more of a demand under his critical gaze.

"Hopefully," Jenny replied, and the priest nodded in satisfaction. He bid them both good-bye before moving to speak to the next family.

"I hate church," Jenny grumbled as they walked up the church aisle toward the doors. "I hate having to wear kitten heels, and I _hate_ not wearing red lipstick."

Jethro laughed softly.

"Anything you don't hate?" he murmured as he placed his hand on her lower back and led her through the church doors; and she smirked as they stepped into the sticky, summer air.

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Jethro went into NCIS around noon at the call of the Director, likely to tie up the loose ends of the previous day; but not before complying with Jenny's request that he get Kelly from Maddie's first.

"Daddy, why isn't Mommy picking me up?" Kelly asked her father with her hand in his, squinting up at him under the hot, afternoon sun as they walked down the Tyler's driveway toward his car.

"You don't want to see me?" he asked, feigning hurt as he took her small, pink backpack from her. Despite Jenny's best efforts to sway her otherwise, the cotton candy color was her favorite.

"No," she joked, and he growled playfully, tossing her over his shoulder. "Daddy," she giggled. "Put me down."

He complied with a grin and Kelly flashed him a brilliant smile as the breeze caught her long, reddish-brown hair and her hair almost seemed to catch fire under the sunlight. His breath caught in his throat for a moment as it always did when he would be taken off guard by moments like when it became blatantly clear just how much Kelly was growing into Shannon's spitting image.

"Daddy?" Kelly asked, tilting her head to look at him inquisitively, looking eerily like Jenny as she did; and it irked him just as much that at nine years old her gaze seemed to pierce through him as it did when Jenny did it.

"Kel," he replied mockingly, and Kelly rolled her eyes with a grin.

"Why are you looking like that?" she asked, pushing her hair back out of her face like a habit.

"Like what?" he asked as he opened the door for her, and she crawled into the back seat.

"I don't know," she said, pursing her lips slightly with a shrug of her shoulders. "You looked funny," she decided, buckling her seat belt.

"According to your mom I always look funny," Jethro replied with a smirk, and Kelly giggled.

"No, Mommy says your handsome," she assured him, nodding sincerely.

He smiled and checked that Kelly's feet were clear of the door before he shut it behind her, and walked around to the driver's seat.

"Mom's at home," he said, finally answering her question as he slid into his seat. "I got to stop at work first though."

Kelly scrunched her nose up unhappily, but sighed in acquiescence.

"Fine," she murmured, slumping back against the seat; but she immediately perked up as a thought crossed her mind. "Daddy, can we get ice cream after we leave your work?" she asked.

Whenever she was with her father and it was hot enough, ice cream was often a given.

"Sure," he agreed, shifting the car into reverse: and Kelly grinned happily as he backed out of the driveway.

The drive to NCIS was easy: no traffic, and Gibbs actually managed to drive like a semi-normal person at having his daughter in the car.

He flashed his badge as they drove onto the Navy Yard, and he drove around to the parking garage.

"You have something to do for a while?" he asked of her as he turned off the car and pulled the key from the ignition.

"Yeah," she replied, nodding in the affirmative; and he gave short nod of satisfaction.

Kelly waited in the car until her father came to open the door for her and she took his hand when he held it out for hers. He and Jenny had long since learned that Kelly had a rather…curious personality. Even at nine, if they didn't watch her, something would catch her eye and she tended to wander off.

When they stepped off of the elevator onto the right floor ten minutes later, it was plain that it was a Sunday at NCIS.

The normal hub of movement, conversation, and flying of fingers over keys that was NCIS was considerably smaller. The agents that were there, either because they were on weekend duty or because they had been called in, were dressed casually.

"Stay here," Gibbs instructed, getting Kelly situated at his desk. "Don't go wandering off anywhere. I shouldn't be that long."

"I know, Daddy," Kelly sighed in exasperation.

"And stay out of my desk," he ordered.

Kelly crossed her arms on the desk and leaned forward, looking up at her father very seriously.

"Daddy, I'm not five," she informed him; and he almost had to laugh at her speaking as if four years was so much.

"Yeah, well you still got yourself lost in the store, didn't you?" he shot back, and she scoffed.

"The picture was pretty," she defended herself, and Gibbs laughed.

"Stay," he repeated; and Kelly saluted him.

"Yes, Sir!" she said, nodding curtly with mock seriousness.

"Sir?" he asked skeptically.

Despite the cliché of military fathers running their children like soldiers, Jethro's family had been his time away from the military no matter how much he loved it; and he had never enforced any rule that Kelly refer to him as 'Sir.' In fact he preferred 'Dad.'

"Yes, ma'am," she amended with a giggle and another salute.

He gave her a mild glare, and she smiled bashfully. He shook his head before he headed for the stairs to the Director's office, taking them two at a time.

For a good twenty minutes after her father had disappeared up the stairs, no one bothered Kelly until a shadow fell over his desk and she looked up from her drawing to see a dark haired man with reedy stature standing in her line of sight.

He looked down at her with nothing more than bewildered curiosity; before she could speak, Jethro's voice drifted from the stairs.

"You bothering my daughter, Pacci?" Jethro asked and Chris Pacci's gaze lingered on the girl whose features he could now place a moment before he looked to Gibbs.

"Since when do you have a kid?" Pacci demanded.

" 'Bout nine years," Gibbs replied smartly, rounding the corner into the bullpen. He looked to Kelly briefly. "Grab your stuff," he instructed.

"How's Shepard doing?" Pacci asked.

"Stubborn as hell," Gibbs grumbled. "Probably be back tomorrow morning at her desk."

Kelly looked up at her father sharply, having since come up beside him with her bag on her back.

"What wrong with Mo-?" she started, only to have her eyes widen in surprise as her father clamped his hand over her mouth, muffling her words.

She moved her small hands up to pull his larger one from her mouth impatiently only to receive a firm shoulder squeeze in indication for her to be quiet. She grumbled in compliance and he removed his hand, satisfied that she would stay silent.

Kelly waited by her father's side obediently, though she was antsy and disinclined to do so, while he finished his short conversation. She looked up at the sound of her name. The dark haired man was saying that it was nice to meet her.

"It was nice to meet you too, Mr. Pacci," she replied politely, and Chris smiled.

"Hey, tell Shepard to get her butt back here quick. My guys can't go a day without her," Pacci laughed. "Still can't believe the Director gave you a redhead for a probie," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Is something wrong with Mom?" Kelly asked, and Gibbs dropped to one knee in front of her, straightening her collar.

"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "You can't call her 'Mom' here though, alright?" he impressed upon her, and Kelly wrinkled her brow in confusion.

"Why?" she demanded, genuinely puzzled.

"Because," he drawled, moving to his feet; and her gaze followed. "Your mom and I have dangerous jobs. It's safer for you if you don't."

He hated asking her to keep secrets, and maybe bringing her to work where people would be talking about Jenny wasn't the best idea, but this one was necessary. Obviously, it was better for he and Jenny that people not know their history, but it _was_ safer for Kelly too. The less people that knew she was the daughter of two federal agents, the better.

"So I can call her 'Mom' everywhere else?" she asked skeptically, and Gibbs smirked, seeing the confusion he could be causing.

"Yeah," he replied simply as he pressed the button to call the elevator.

"That doesn't make any sense," she insisted.

"Well, do it anyway," he said as the elevator doors opened and they stepped in.

"Then what do I call her?" Kelly asked.

"Jenny," he said as the elevator doors opened and they stepped in.

Kelly jumped forward to press the elevator button for the parking garage before she stepped back and looked up at her father again with a pointed look.

"Mommy doesn't like that," she reminded him.

"She'll deal with it," he murmured as the elevator began its descent.

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"Mom!" Kelly called, happily, running into the house in front of her father.

"In the kitchen!" Jenny called back, and Kelly set off in that direction as Gibbs shut the door behind them.

Jenny looked up as she stilled her foot, having been soaking up spilled juice, when Kelly ran in.

"Hi, Mommy," she said with her ever-present smile; but her face fell slightly at seeing the sling on Jenny's arm. "What happened?" she asked.

"A bad guy hurt my shoulder," Jenny said, trying to make as small a deal of it as possible as Kelly moved toward her. "I'm fine though, I'll be good as new in a few weeks. It comes with my job."

"Then, you should quit," Kelly said indignantly. "I don't like when you're hurt."

"Then the bad guys would get away," Jenny murmured, her heart strings tugging at the look on Kelly's face.

"Daddy catches bad guys," Kelly said matter of factly; and Jenny smiled.

"Your Dad needs my help," Jenny said loftily before leaning in conspiratorially. "He's not good enough on his own."

That got a crack of a smile from Kelly, and Jenny tickled her side with a squeeze, eliciting a giggle from her daughter.

"I'm fine. Nothing's going to happen to me," Jenny assured her. "Okay?" she asked, resting her forehead against Kelly's.

"Okay," Kelly whispered, looking up at Jenny through her lashes. "Pinky promise," Kelly demanded, holding out a crooked pinky; and Jenny laughed.

"Pinky promise," she agreed, hooking her finger with Kelly's smaller one.

Both Kelly and Jenny looked up as Jethro and Kelly looked upon her father imploringly.

"Daddy, can I stay with Mommy?" she asked, and Jethro was about to agree, having been expecting it; but Jenny interjected before he could.

"What if," Jenny started, tapping her fingers along Kelly's arm gently, "Dad stays here. Then, you can see me and him." Jenny looked from Kelly to Jethro, feeling his gaze on her. She raised a brow in challenge with a small smirk on her face.

Kelly smiled at the idea; and nodded.

"Yeah," she agreed, and Jenny smiled.

"Okay," she said before looking back to Jethro.

"Any complaints, _Jethro_," Jenny asked, and he shook his head with an impassive look on his face.

"No," he said, and Jenny nodded in satisfaction as she moved to her feet.

"No midnight tiptoe," she murmured into Jethro's ear as she stopped in passing him, shoulder to shoulder.

"No?" he asked, raising a brow in skeptical challenge; and she gave him a short laugh.

"You wish," she snorted. She leaned in closer. "One night stand with your boss: that's kinky. More than once?" Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Scandalous."

She grinned, patting him on the shoulder knowingly, and he shook his head, running a hand down his neck as she walked away with Kelly in tow. As the sound of his daughter's animated recount of her weekend faded he was glad or he might have had to find a way to get around explaining a rather involuntary male function to his nine-year old daughter.

"Wow," he murmured.

* * *

So, fluffy-ish and centered more around the family. A welcome, if temporary break I hope. I was starting to depress myself a little with all of the less than happiness I had been writing.

-Feedback is always awesome!

-M :)


	7. Chapter 7

_A/n: Well, here it is. It's slightly shorter than usual but also the first of a two chapter development, so maybe that makes up for it._

* * *

"When do you think Shepard'll be back?" Stan Burley asked of his partner with what was supposed to be indifference as they walked past security.

It had been two weeks, and to everyone's surprise, they had seen neither head nor tail of the fiery redhead.

Decker shrugged, sipping from his coffee cup.

"When she's back," he murmured. "Taking your first bullet isn't exactly a cake walk." He drank from his cup again and swallowed before speaking. "Hell, neither are the ones after that."

Burley nodded, standing with his usual wide stance and crossed arms as Decker called for the elevator.

"You been to see her?" Stan asked, looking back at his partner; and Decker met his gaze with eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Yeah," Will replied slowly. "Day before yesterday." He watched Stan for a minute. "Why?" Decker asked, keeping his eyes on his partner as the elevator doors opened with a ding and they stepped in.

"Just wondering," Stan said, shaking his head. He pressed the button for their floor; and Decker nodded, with a hint of a knowing smile. Stan was silent only a moment again when he drew in a short breath before speaking as if he were about to say something rather important. "You think I should've sent her flowers or something?" he asked, wrinkling his brow.

Decker grinned impishly.

"You miss her," he said with confidence as the realization dawned on him; and Stan scoffed.

"I do not," he insisted defensively, and Decker's grin widened as he nodded, pointing a finger at Stan.

"Yeah you do," Will said. "You miss Jenny," he mused in disbelief.

"She's part of the team. I'm just worried about her," Stan bit back, watching as the numbers on the elevator neared their floor. It couldn't get there fast enough.

Will laughed at him.

"No," he insisted in amusement. "It's more than that. You don't know what to do with yourself without her here."

Stan sent his partner a dirty glare before he barreled through the open doors, and set off for the bullpen with Will laughing behind him.

Decker stopped mid-laugh when Stan came to an abrupt stop and he nearly ran into the brick wall that was Stan Burley's back. Will barely had time to dodge his coffee as the top popped off and the dark liquid inside sloshed over the sides of his cup.

"Hey, what the hell, Stan!" he barked, standing straight once more. He moved around Burley curious as to what had him grinning like such an idiot.

Soon though, Decker had the same stupid grin on his face when he caught sight of what Burley had been blocking. There at her desk sat Jenny Shepard with her trademark, red hair in becoming curls falling over her shoulders, a sling on her arm, and a pair of black-rimmed eyeglasses on her nose.

"Are you two just going to stand there grinning like Dumb and Dumber or did you plan to do actual work today?" she murmured without taking her eyes off of her paper.

Burley and Decker shot forward, all but tackling her out of her chair, crushing her into the middle of a group bear hug, though they were careful of her arm; and an undignified squeal of surprise escaped her lips.

"Get off of me!" she commanded breathlessly, but any attempt at authority was marred by her laughter and muffled by their arms. She struggled against them half heartedly a moment before she sighed helplessly and the corner of her lips quirked up as her cheeks were smushed in the theatric antics of Stan and Will.

Finally, they released her, laughing at her expense; and she shot them both mild glares as she attempted to smooth her no doubt rumpled appearance.

"What's gotten into the two of you?" she snorted, and Decker reached out to ruffle her hair.

She smacked his hand away, and glared; but he smiled.

"We missed you, Shep," Decker replied. "Gibbs is meaner without you around. Stan was ready to cry."

"I was not!" Stan insisted again, and Jenny grinned devilishly before a mock-touched smile graced her face.

"Stan," she drawled, looking up at him through her long lashes as she held a hand to heart teasingly. "You do care."

He gave her a mild glare, and shoved her in her good shoulder lightly, earning him a smile from her.

"So, when do you get that thing off?" Decker asked, nodding toward her sling as he took his seat.

"Couple of days," she replied flippantly; and Decker nodded.

They settled into the typical silence after teasing greetings, waiting for Gibbs to walk in with a scowl on his face ambience of the MCRT until Stan broke it.

"Hey, Jenny," he said, and her head shot up so fast she thought she might have gotten whiplash. He hadn't called her anything but Red since her first week there.

"What?" she asked, so caught off guard she forgot to be snarky.

"I really am glad you're okay," he said, and a genuine softness crossed her face.

She smiled. Stan did care about her. They were at each other's throats constantly, but they cared. It was some dysfunctional way of showing affection: like Gibbs' head slaps.

"Thanks Stan," she murmured softly; and he just nodded firmly before returning to work.

Gibbs rounded the corner at that moment with his morning cup of coffee in hand.

"Grab your gear," he barked, doing the smallest of double takes at seeing Jenny sitting at her desk. He narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?" he demanded of her.

She had not told him she would be back. She hadn't even dropped a hint; so to say seeing her there was a surprise, was an understatement.

Jenny looked up at him with the seemingly permanent expression of devilish delight and a hint of smugness that indicated something witty was going to come out of her mouth.

She interlocked her fingers and set her chin on them.

"Well, I applied for a job here; and I passed all of my test with flying colors," she murmured, waving her open hand through the air in a rainbow motion. "Then the Director told me I was to report to you at 0700. I've been working here ever since," she said with a flippant shrug and a contradicting glint in her eyes.

"What are you doing here now?" he growled. "Doctor clear you?"

"He did," she replied simply. "Sling comes off in two days."

He nodded curtly; and turned to Burley and Decker.

"Come on, grab your gear," he repeated, waving them along as if speaking to small children with wearing patience.

Both men tossed their bags over one shoulder, and headed for the elevators. Jenny moved as if to do the same, and Gibbs stayed her with an open palm.

"Not you," he said with definite authority, and she scoffed in disbelief and discontent.

"Gibbs," she protested like a child who had just gotten their favorite toy taken from them.

He pointed to her shoulder.

"You ride a desk until that sling is off," he said, and she growled in disgruntlement before dropping back into her chair with the dramatics of a petulant teenager.

He nodded in satisfaction before heading off after Burley and Decker, who was holding the elevator door.

Jenny pulled a face as she flipped the page on her report violently. She knew he couldn't see her; but it made her _feel_ better.

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"What do you think Shepard's doing?" Burley asked, grinning at the idea of her stuck at a desk, no doubt thinking up the most interesting case imaginable to be missing.

"Probably screwing with Gibbs' stuff," Decker snorted, pulling his bag from the back of the truck.

"She wouldn't," Burley said, shaking his head with a contradictory smirk. Decker fixed him with a look pointed look, and Burley nodded. "Yeah," he agreed after a second thought, slinging his own bag over his shoulder before shutting the back of the truck; and Decker nodded.

"Bet you ten bucks she messes with his coffee before he notices," Decker snickered.

"Twenty says she takes his gun again," Burley challenged, grinning at the memory of the metaphor she had made clear it represented.

"Thirty, she does both," Decker said, and Burley tipped his own cap back to look the other man in the eye, and held his hand out.

"You're on," he laughed. There was no way she'd get away with both.

Decker took the offered hand and they shook on it as Ducky drove up behind them in his medical examiner's van; and stepped out with a grace only Ducky possessed when exiting an elevated vehicle.

His new assistant, Sunshine, or Sunny as she insisted she be called-because who in their right mind wants to be called Sunshine?- followed behind him. Her name actually fit her: given her constant, unnaturally chipper attitude, tanned, freckled skin, and blonde hair despite the ever changing colors she streaked it and her penchant for black nail polish. Not to mention, there was always the slightest bit of sarcasm under all of that _sunshine_.

"Hi guys!" she greeted them with her bordering-on-maniacal smile.

"Hey, Sunny," they replied simultaneously with identical looks of shared amusement.

"Ms. Harris," Ducky interjected. "We do have a body to attend to," he reminded her, and she nodded her head vigorously.

"Quite right, Doctor Mallard," she agreed, nodding curtly with mock stoicism before she set off in the direction of the entrance to St. Augustine Catholic School.

Ducky shook his head, and Burley and Decker snorted.

When they walked through the doors there was no doubt word had spread. Students in navy and olive uniforms lingered in the hallway even as nuns ushered them along with stern voices. The students shared looks and their whispers grew as the NCIS team walked past them.

The girl's lavatory door had been propped open and Gibbs stood over the body. The victim was Sarah Bauer, a senior at St. Augustine and daughter of Navy Captain Harrison Bauer.

"What can you tell me, Duck?" Gibbs asked as Decker and Burley started taking crime scene photos.

Ducky knelt beside the body, turning her head to examine the wound to her crown: the blood staining and matting her blonde hair.

"Given the extent of rigor mortis, she's been dead several days."

He pointed to her head wound.

"I'll be sure when I do the autopsy, but I think it's safe to assume, this wound here is the cause of death." He checker her hands and arms. "No defensive wounds," he announced.

"She knew her attacker?" Gibbs deduced, and Ducky nodded.

"Yes, that or she was taken by surprise," he murmured. "Perhaps both."

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At NCIS Jenny, having caught up on their recent cases, was indeed messing with Gibbs things, or trying to.

She sat at his desk, jimmying the lock with her nail file. She smirked with a sound of triumph when it popped and she pulled it open.

"What the hell are you doing, Shepard?" Chris Pacci's voice boomed over the white noise of the bullpen and Jenny jumped upright.

Pacci laughed, and Jenny glared at him.

"I am teaching Gibbs a lesson," she replied primly, going back to selecting seemingly random things from his desk drawer.

"Oh yeah?" Pacci asked, sauntering toward her with curiosity. "How so?"

"You'll see," she murmured, smiling up at him. "Wouldn't want you spoiling my plan."

Pacci held a hand to his chest in mock-hurt.

"I'm hurt, Shep. You don't trust me or something?"

"Mmmm," she murmured noncommittally.

Chris Pacci was a prankster extraordinaire; but he had started around the same time as Gibbs and was one of Jethro's closer co-workers at NCIS.

"He's going to kill you, you know that right?" Pacci laughed, eyeing the assortment of office supplies on Gibbs' desk trying to figure out just what Jenny was doing.

"He won't know that it was me," she murmured confidently taking apart one of Gibbs' pens and taking out the ink chamber before reassembling said pen.

"You're not me, Jenny," Pacci gloated. "I could help."

"You could…" she agreed, sparing him a brief but pointed glance.

Pacci took the hint, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright," he acquiesced. "You're going to wish I had though," he said in a sing-song voice as he walked away.

"Is that a threat, Agent Pacci?" she demanded playfully.

Pacci grinned as he paused in the entrance of the MCRT's cubicle.

"Me? Threaten you?" he asked sarcastically. "I'd never."

Jenny smirked, returning to her task.

She looked up at the sound of her desk phone ringing. She abandoned her scheming and walked the few steps between her desk and Jethro's. She snatched the phone up and held it to her ear.

"Shepard," was her customary, professional answer. The voice that replied was one she had not heard in some time and was entirely unexpected.

_"Jenny?"_

"Joanne?" Jenny murmured, wrinkling her brow as she dropped into her seat. "What's wrong?"

Joanne didn't really call Jenny just to chat. In fact, she hadn't called Jenny or Jethro at all in the past few months.

_"Oh, no, nothing's wrong," _Joanne assured her. "_Why would something be wrong?"_ she asked.

Jenny laughed a little awkwardly.

"You don't really call me without a purpose, Joanne," Jenny said: her tone was not unkind, rather matter-of-fact.

Joanne was silent a moment before she spoke carefully.

_"I was calling to see if you might bring Kelly out this weekend to see me,"_ she requested, and Jenny inhaled through her nose before smiling tightly.

She responded with weak enthusiasm.

"Sure," she agreed. "She's been asking about it anyway."

Joanne hadn't returned to Washington but Kelly went to visit her on a regular basis.

_"Has she?"_ Joanne asked with audibly surprised happiness; and Jenny cracked a genuine smile.

"Yeah," she murmured, and pulled out her calendar, flipping to the right month. "When did you want us there?"

_"Friday afternoon?" _Joanne proposed._ "Four?"_

"That's fine," Jenny said, penciling the date in. "We'll see you at four."

They said their good-byes and Jenny placed the phone back on its hook with a sigh. Talking to Joanne always left her feeling drained even when the conversation was easy as this one had been.

She looked over at Gibbs desk and bit the inside of her lip. She wasn't exactly in the mischievous mood anymore; but Gibbs could use a good mind-fuck. She hopped up on her desk and kicked her heels off before moving to her feet so that she was standing on her desk.

"Pacci!" she shouted over the bullpen, and the dark-haired man looked up along with several other agents. Jenny smirked. "Your services are needed."

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When Decker, Burley, and Gibbs made it back to NCIS some few hours later Jenny was nowhere to be found.

"Get the rest of that evidence to Hodges," Gibbs instructed, taking a seat at his desk. He picked his phone up to check his messages out of sheer habit only to find it disconnected. "What the hell?" he muttered. "Decker!" he barked, stopping the younger man in his tracks on his way to the elevator.

"Yeah,boss?" he asked.

"Get one of those techy kids up here to fix this phone," he demanded in agitation. "Or find Shepard."

"Sure, boss," Decker said, and continued toward his original destination.

When he made it to Forensics, he expected to see Jenny there harassing Hodges or whatever it was she did to him. She was the only one who could get the contentious little bastard to do anything.

"Hey Hodges!" Decker shouted, breaking through the deafening silence that was Hodges' lab.

"Your first grade teacher never taught you what an inside voice was?" Hodges asked acrimoniously, not looking up from his microscope.

"Come on Hodges, I got a present for you. I know how important chain of evidence is to you." Decker snickered, swinging the box onto the counter. Important was an understatement. The man was an OCD control freak. "Hey, put a rush on these will you?" he requested.

"You'll get it when I get to it, Special Agent Decker," Hodges murmured, unaffected.

"Jesus Hodges, the vic's a seventeen year old girl," Decker informed him testily. "Even your icebox of a heart has to melt at that."

"I've got a six year old boy, a war hero, and about six weeks of back cases. You'll get it when you get it," Hodges repeated with finality.

"Fine," Decker growled. "Look, you seen Shepard?" he asked, and Hodges actually bothered to lift his head at her name.

"No," he said a little too quickly. "Why? Is she coming down here?" he demanded with his usual jumpiness when it came to Jenny.

"I don't know," Decker snapped. "Gibbs is looking for her."

"I haven't seen her," Hodges said, and Decker nodded and turned slowly on his heel, heading for the elevator.

He strode into the bullpen without Jenny fifteen minutes later only to find her sitting at Gibbs' desk.

"I've been looking all over the building for you," he grumbled.

Jenny looked up at him with feigned innocence.

"Did you look at Gibbs' desk?" she asked smartly; and Decker shot her a glare.

"The girl that found her, what's her name again?" Gibbs demanded, taping the picture of the brunette to the whiteboard as Decker came up beside him.

"Marisela Sanchez," Will said, having been the one to interview her. "Eighteen."

"According to some of the other students, she and the victim weren't the best of friends," Burley cut in. "Almost started a fight over some guy."

"Who's the guy?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh," Burley hesitated, running to his desk for his notepad, flipping the pages quickly. "Felix Lucci. Also a senior." He looked over at Jenny, realizing she was uncharacteristically quiet, and smirked at seeing her with a coffee cup between her legs. "Suspended last month for possession on campus, cocaine," he continued, walking back toward Decker and Gibbs though his eyes remained on Jenny with curiosity. "Didn't show up to school today."

She popped the lid off with her thumb, watching the back of Gibbs' head warily as she quickly emptied about five packets of artificial sweetener and three creams into the cup. She grinned at Burley and winked as she took a deliberate sip from the cup, making sure her trademark red lipstick stained the rim before she set it back on the desk.

"Start there," Gibbs said, walking back to his desk. "Find that kid. Bring him in."

The shrill ringing of Gibbs' desk phone cut through the bullpen, and Gibbs snatched it up as Burley and Decker grabbed their things. He narrowed his eyes at the glaring, scarlet stain on his coffee before lifting his gaze to settle Jenny with one of his infamous glares.

"Gibbs," he growled in to the phone, snatching his cup up. He knew better than to drink it from past experience and simply dropped it into the trash can, earning him a satisfied grin from Jenny. "Yeah," he agreed gruffly to the person on the end of the line, rolling Jenny out of the way in his chair to pull his drawer open.

He grabbed a pen and held it to the pad, pressing harder when no ink came out. He growled at the back of his throat, and grabbed another one only to find it empty too. He looked to Jenny sharply, positive she had something to do with it, with everything actually; his phone being disconnected, the random things missing that he took for granted every day: his staples, his paperclips, the little do-dads that he used to clip his files together. She simply looked back at him through her lashes with an air of innocence and smiled sweetly, producing a pen for him. He snatched it from her.

'Not nice,' she mouthed, shaking her head in admonishment and he rolled his eyes. Jenny leaned in obnoxiously close, peering over his arms as he scribbled the message down.

He slammed the phone back into its cradle and tugged her up by her arm and out of his chair, turning her toward her desk. He yanked his bottom drawer open in search of his gun and badge; and pulled them out, only to find them considerably lighter. Upon closer inspection it was clear that they were toys.

"Jen," he growled; and she looked back at him with that infuriating wide eyed, innocent look.

"What?" she demanded; and he held up his 'weapon.' "What?" she repeated.

"You know damn well _what_," he snapped.

She moved forward, grabbing them from him; and wrinkled a brow, raising the other skeptically. He ran a hand down his face; and turned back to his desk, propping his foot up on his chair to grab his backup. He didn't have time for this.

"What is your problem?" she asked with an air of annoyance. "There is nothing wrong with them," she said, shoving his gun and badge back into his hands.

He snatched them back, narrowing his eyes in befuddlement. Sure enough, his actual gun and badge were there in his hands. He could have sworn...

He shook his head, hooking them onto their rightful places on his belt and replaced his back-up.

"Situation at the school," was his only explanation as he strode out of the bullpen; and Jenny smiled at his retreating back with mischievous content before she laughed softly and tossed the dollar store 'Police' toys she had been holding behind her back into her desk drawer.

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_Situation_ was an understatement. Chaos was more fitting. There were ambulances and fire trucks with their whaling sirens and various cars were lined up the street as parents screamed over the commotion demanding to see their children.

Gibbs ducked under the yellow tape, jogging up the school steps for the second time that day. He flashed his badge, walking through the crowd of evacuating students and teachers past the firefighters and local LEOs.

"Fornell," Gibbs growled at the FBI agent: less greeting, more displeasure.

Fornell meant FBI; and FBI always meant a jurisdiction battle. More often than not, that meant a joint investigation.

"Gibbs," Fornell replied with just as much discontent.

"What've you got?" Gibbs asked, coming up beside the other man, taking in the charred remains of what he assumed had been a teacher's desk.

"Bomb in the desk," Fornell said. "Nun walked in, saw her desk on fire."

"Lucky she wasn't sitting at it," Gibbs murmured.

"Maybe she wasn't supposed to be," Fornell suggested logically. "Bomb was an amateur job. Barely enough to start the fire. Cleaning fluid fueled it."

"It sure as hell wasn't an accident," Gibbs countered.

"More like a warning," Fornell concluded.

"The daughter of a Navy Captain was murdered on campus, makes it NCIS' jurisdiction," Gibbs said, already starting in on his claim to the case.

Fornell scoffed, giving Gibbs a 'yeah, right' look.

"Navy Captain's daughter wasn't bombed," Tobias shot back. "The school was. FBI's jurisdiction."

"Navy Captain's daughter took this class," Gibbs growled territorially. " Could have something to do with her death."

The two men glared at each other, a hand on one hip like something out of an old, Western movie. The only thing missing was, 'The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.'

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"Where's Gibbs?" Burley asked of Jenny as he and Decker walked into the bullpen, dragging a no doubt drunken young man. His eyes were heavy and he was entirely out of it.

"Something at the school," she replied, watching the dark-haired boy.

"You're pretty," he slurred at Jenny, his head lolling to the side when Stan and Will propped him against the wall of the cubicle.

She snorted, sparing the starry-eyed boy a brief look.

"This is Felix I take it?" she laughed, directing the statement at Will.

"Yeah, found him half passed out on the sidewalk next to a convenience store a few miles from the school," Decker said, casting the kid a side-eye glance. "Keeps swearing he never had a drink."

"I didn't, I swear," Felix insisted; and Jenny narrowed her eyes at him curiously. "Not today anyway," he laughed. "Hey, can I have some water?"

The elevator doors opened with a ding and Ducky stepped off of them dressed in his doctor's scrubs as Jenny knelt beside Felix.

"Where is Gibbs?" Ducky asked, willing to take an answer from any of the three agents.

"Ducky?" Jenny murmured, drawing everyone's attention; and it was then that Ducky first noticed the nearly unconscious boy on the floor. "Does he smell like alcohol to you?" Jenny asked Decker softly, who was closest.

Decker furrowed his brows, and bent over to sniff him. A look of confused realization crossed his face.

"No," he said, frowning at Jenny.

"Ducky, there's something wrong with him," Jenny said; and Ducky wrinkled his brow, approaching the young man.

"I have to pee," Felix slurred, trying to get up.

"Jesus, you just went!" Burley snapped. "After you puked everywhere," he muttered, grimacing in disgust at the memory.

"Oh, dear, " Ducky murmured, approaching Felix and Jenny. "My dear boy, are you thirsty at all?" he asked.

"He was just asking for water," Jenny interjected, looking up at Ducky worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm really thirsty," Felix agreed.

"William, call an ambulance," Decker instructed, and Decker looked at him funny.

"What? Why?" he asked.

"This boy is slipping into a diabetic coma," Ducky sighed, and Decker's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He snatched the phone up, and dialed the right numbers. Ducky turned to Jenny. "Jennifer run to autopsy; and bring me my bag. Ms. Harris will know where it is." He then turned to the boy in front of him. "How are you feeling young man?" he asked.

"Yeah, not so good," Felix replied lowly, shaking his head slowly as his eyes grew heavier.

"Not to worry. You'll be just fine," Ducky assured him, patting his knee. The doctor looked up at Decker who looked as if he were about to speak.

"Ambulance is on it's way," Will said.

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Gibbs and Fornell walked through the hallway of St. Augustine's in search of the nun who had been the target of the bomb. Gibbs paused at the sight of a familiar face on the Hall of Fame wall. He turned back and rolled his eyes shaking his head. There, preserved in a photo was an adolescent Jenny Shepard with a brilliant smile on her face despite the braces; but even then there was the unmistakable glint of smug mischief in her eyes, giving her a 'cat ate the canary' expression.

"Christ," he muttered. Did she have to have history in every damn case? At least she wasn't personally involved this time.

He walked out into the now scorching afternoon sun and smirked at seeing Fornell already trying to talk to the woman he assumed was the nun.

Said woman was batting away anyone who tried to get within a three inch radius of her.

"I am fine," she insisted, swatting a paramedic's hand away. "The desk caught fire, not me."

"Ma'am," Fornell tried.

"Sister," she corrected him. "I am a woman of God young man."

Fornell rubbed the back of his neck, thoroughly admonished. It was clear he had been at this for a bit.

"Sister?" Gibbs asked, and the white-haired woman looked up at him expectantly with sharp, gray eyes. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

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Jenny, Burley, and Decker stepped off the elevator onto the NCIS floor after seeing Felix Lucci off in the ambulance. His mother had been called and she was on her way to the hospital to meet him there.

"What kind of idiot takes cocaine with diabetes?" Burley muttered, and Jenny pursed her lips with a shrug.

"I hated Catholic School," Decker grumbled, dropping into his chair lazily. "Sister O'Hannigan called me William Nathaniel once in freshman year and I never lived it down."

Burley snorted.

"Your middle name is Nathaniel?" he laughed, his lips quivering as he tried not to grin. He felt embarrassed for him.

"That's what I said, Burley," Decker snapped defensively. He balled up a piece of paper and sent it sailing toward Stan's head. Burley threw his hands up and dodged the projectile. "What's your middle name?" Decker demanded.

"Matthew," Stan replied with a shrug. It was normal; nothing to spark any interesting stories, but it was nothing to be embarrassed about wither. "I wish I'd been in Catholic School," he mused aloud, grinning at the idea.

"You wish you'd been in girls with short, plaid skirts and knee highs," Jenny quipped crudely; and Decker snorted, grinning at Jenny..

"Nice," he laughed, and she smiled.

"Ah ha, ha, ha," Stan said mirthlessly, bobbing his head from side to side. "What's _your_ middle name, Shepard?" he demanded, realizing she had been quiet up until then.

"None of your business," she replied loftily, turning her nose up; but she was a red-head and she couldn't hide the tell-tale hot flush of her skin.

Stan grinned like a kid who had just found the cookie jar, and he slid out of his seat like a lion with its sights locked on a gazelle.

"No," he drawled gleefully, shaking a finger at her knowingly. He laughed like someone who had just found the president's law school sex tape with his professor in a time capsule. He had blackmail gold if he could pull it out of her. "Come on, Red," he coaxed.

"It is worse than Sunshine," she grumbled, grimacing as she went back to writing. Stan actually giggled, and she looked up at him with a dark glare through her lashes. "Go away, Stan," she deadpanned.

The elevator doors dinged, and the three of them turned as they always did.

"Oh my God!" Jenny gasped, baring her teeth in a grimace of fearful disbelief as she slithered out of her chair and onto the floor like water through a sieve.

Stan and Decker both looked at her like she had lost her mind.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Stan laughed, watching with amusement as Jenny peeked over the back of the cubicle before ducking down again, balling her fists up in front of her mouth.

"That!" she hissed pointing backwards and Will and Decker watched as Gibbs neared them with an elderly woman in a grey sheath dress and a crisp, collared, white shirt with a cross at her neck. "That is Sister O'Carrol-Conolly. She is the meanest woman I have _ever_ met! Oh my God, why is she still alive? She was nine-hundred when I was eight."

"She doesn't look all that bad," Stan laughed, looking at the small woman with white hair who was shuffling down the hallway at Gibbs' side.

"You wait," Jenny growled through her teeth with wide-eyed conviction.

* * *

_A/n: So, Jenny has a funny middle name and you guys get to chose...partly because I can't :) There is a poll up on my profile, so go vote! Then look for it in the beginning of next chapter._

_I hope everyone is having, or had a wonderful spring break :)_

_Thanks for reading!_

_xxxx-M :]_


	8. Chapter 8

A/n: If you've watched Rizzoli and Isles you will likely realize where I drew my inspiration from on several points in this chapter and the last. If you haven't watched it yet, you have to. It's hilarious. :D

* * *

"I see you hiding down there Jennifer Clementine Shepard," Sister Adelaide O'Carroll-Connolly called sharply; and Jenny winced

"Your middle name is Clementine?" Burley whispered, knitting his brows. He hadn't been expecting that. Bertha, maybe. "Like the fruit?"

Jenny stuck her tongue out at him, and rose from her hiding place reluctantly as Gibbs and the devil in disguise rounded the corner.

"Hi, Sister Adelaide," Jenny said, with a nervous smile that came off as more of a grimace.

She watched briefly as Gibbs took off up the stairs to the Director's office.

"Hello," the elderly woman corrected her, and Jenny fought the urge to roll her eyes. The severe looking, white-haired woman gave Jenny a critical once over. "Well, I never thought I'd see the girl who threw her shoe at the face of one of the cafeteria staff would end up on this side of the law."

Burley and Decker watched with half amusement-half disbelief that anybody had Jennifer Shepard de-clawed and acting like an admonished five-year old.

"I was six," Jenny defended herself, eyeing the older woman warily. "There was a spider behind her. I was trying to help…" she trailed off, shaking her head at seeing that the Sister's facial expression had not changed. "Misunderstanding," she finished lamely. Jenny took a deep breath and clasped her hands in front of herself, rocking on her heels. "So, uh, what brings you here…to um, NCIS?" she asked awkwardly.

She sincerely hoped it would be something temporary.

"Um?" the Sister demanded sharply, her grey eyes flashing. "That is the second 'um' I have counted in as many seconds, Ms. Shepard."

"It's _Agent_ Shepard," Jenny corrected her weakly.

God, she felt like she was thirteen instead of thirty.

"She's here for questioning," Gibbs interjected, jogging down the stairs with an amused smirk. He looked up at her as he took a seat at his desk. "Morrow wants to see you in his office," he said, nodding toward the Director's office.

Jenny wrinkled her brow in confusion momentarily before she realized that this was her opportunity to escape. She didn't really care why the Director wanted to see her so long as it got her out of the bullpen.

"Right," she agreed, turning back to her old teacher with a tight smile. "Well, I'd love to catch up; but I have to go as you heard," she said, waving her hand in Gibbs' direction as she ducked her head and strode past the nun.

"Oh, she'll be here when you get back," Gibbs said confidently; Jenny stopped in her tracks and spun sharply on her heel to face him with wide-eyed anxiety. He leaned back in his chair with a smug, lopsided grin. "Sister O'Carrol-Connolly is under our protective custody," he informed her as he rose from his chair with the case file in hand and made his way toward her. "And you're going to watch her," he murmured stopping beside her.

Jenny looked up at him almost pleadingly.

"Gibbs!" she hissed in disbelief; and he smirked. She narrowed her eyes at him. He was enjoying this. "I hope you choke on sawdust tonight and keel over," she growled lowly, baring her teeth at him; and she set off once more toward Morrow's office.

"I'll be waiting with bated breath for your return," Sister O'Carroll-Connolly piped up threateningly with pursed lips and Jenny cringed. She could feel those eyes on her back.

It was nineteen-seventy-six all over again.

"Okay," she called back miserably.

Stan bent over, laughing hysterically as Jenny crossed the catwalk out of earshot and the elevator doors closed behind Gibbs and the woman who was quite obviously the bane of Jenny's existence. Decker chuckled, returning to his desk as Burley took a knee and collapsed into a fit of breathless laughter.

"Clementine?" was all he managed to get out before he was on the floor gasping for breath again.

Jenny walked through the outside doors of the Director's office; and she was greeted by his feminazi of a secretary.

"He's expecting you, Agent Shepard," she said.

"Is that why he called me up here?" Jenny quipped with a teasing smile and Anna rolled her eyes in annoyance as Jenny pushed the handle down on the Director's door.

Morrow looked up as Jenny walked in with a guarded smile on her face. He returned the smile with a small one of his own and he sat up in his chair.

"Harassing my secretary again, Agent Shepard?" he murmured, peering over his glasses at her in amusement. He laughed softly, removing the wire frames. "I see Agent Gibbs is rubbing off on you more than I thought."

Jenny laughed, shutting the door behind her.

"You wanted to see me, Sir? she asked, getting to the point.

"I did," he agreed, setting down a file he had been reading. He removed his glasses to look up at her as she came to stand in front of his desk. "I take it you're healing well?" he asked, eyeing the sling on her arm.

"Yes, Sir," she confirmed. "Thank you for asking."

"Good, good," he murmured, and she wrinkled her brow. Surely that wasn't the only reason he had called for her. "I wanted to commend you on your job during the Henderson case. You handled yourself like an agent well above your experience level."

"Thank you, Sir," she said gratefully with a professional nod. It seemed like he was just making small talk. Why, she wasn't exactly sure.

He leaned back in his chair again, interlocking his fingers over his stomach.

"How are you faring on Agent Gibbs' team?" he inquired, seeming genuinely interested.

"Fine, Sir," Jenny assured him with a small smile, crossing one leg over the other. "Nothing I can't handle."

"I don't doubt that," he said, but he seemed as if he were in some great internal debate as to how to say something. Jenny raised a brow inquisitively; and Morrow sat up. "I wouldn't want to know that you were being made to feel uncomfortable," he said, hoping she would get what he was trying to say.

She did get what he was trying to say, or at least she was pretty sure she did; and she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

She shook her head, her lips quivering in amusement.

"As I said, Sir, it's nothing I can't handle. In fact it makes me feel like part of the team," she said; and Morrow looked like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. "Is that all, Sir?" she asked.

Morrow was so relieved he missed the twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

"That's all, Agent Shepard," he confirmed, with a dismissive wave; and Jenny nodded before moving to her feet. She grinned as she pulled down on the handle of his door only to have him call her back and she shut the door back.

"Yes, Sir?" she asked, swallowing her laugh as she turned back to him with expectant, wide eyes.

"You'll speak to me if you ever feel that you can't handle it?" he requested with a pointed look; and Jenny smiled indulgently.

"Of course, Sir," she assured him; and he nodded in satisfaction before sitting back in his chair once again, which she took as her cue to leave.

Anna looked up briefly as Jenny walked out; and Jenny laughed softly as she walked past her.

Decker looked up as Jenny descended the stairs from the Director's office with a distinctly amused expression on her face.

"What'd the Director want?" he asked, and she shook her head dismissively despite the lingering amusement in her eyes.

"He just wanted to see how I was doing," she laughed; and Decker nodded. "I think our Director believes I feel sexually harassed by your vulgar comments," she murmured, grabbing a banana from her bag. "He has been spending too much time around that secretary of his."

"Like hell!" Burley protested furiously. "You're worse than me and Decker put together. We should be filing sexual harassments against you," he grumbled.

"Only if you're lucky," she quipped with a teasing grin, taking a deliberate bite of her banana. "Really lucky," she amended after a moment.

"Did you thank the Lord for that piece of fruit, Ms. Shepard?" the unexpectedly strong, alto voice of Sister O'Carroll-Connolly carried over the bullpen; and Jenny choked, slamming her hand down on the table as her eyes shot open in surprise.

"Jesus!" she muttered, turning to see the woman walking toward her with Gibbs at her heels.

Jenny always had wondered how so much evil fit in such a small package.

"I heard that, Ms. Shepard," the Sister snapped; and Jenny rolled her eyes, flaring her nostrils in annoyance.

"What don't you hear, you old bat?" Jenny muttered just loud enough or the older woman to hear as she walked past Jenny's desk.

"I heard that too," she said.

"You were meant to," Jenny shot back in an agitated sing-song voice crossing her 'T' violently; and the Sister pursed her lips as she took the seat offered by Gibbs.

"You better've found that kid since you're sitting here on you're a-"

"We found him boss," Burley interjected, cutting his gaze to the nun warily; and Gibbs eyed him expectantly.

"Oh, you want to know where he is?" Burley asked; and Gibbs rolled his eyes.

There was no way Burley was that dense.

"You think, Burley?" he snapped; and Stan swallowed nervously.

"Get this Boss," Burley started; and Gibbs raised a brow indicating that it had better be damn good. "We found him passed out next to a convenience store; and you know, we just figured he was drunk— " He stopped with a wince as Gibbs' hand collided with the back of his skull. "Kid was almost in a diabetic coma," he ground out.

Gibbs paused only a moment at that before he looked between Decker and Burley, expecting one of them to take the logical next step.

"Then go to the hospital; and see if he's awake!" Gibbs barked, when they didn't.

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Jenny sighed as she pushed the door to her house open later that night with Sister O'Carroll-Connolly. She looked around and blew a breath out of pouted lips.

"Well, this is it," she said, eyeing her rather unwelcome house guest with begrudging hospitality. "I suppose I could show you around...if you want," she offered slowly, obviously less than keen on the idea.

"I would appreciate it," the Sister agreed curtly, and Jenny nodded.

She sighed heavily before she spoke.

"Kitchen, my study, dining room," she listed, pointing to each room respectively. "And there's a bathroom down that hall," she said, pointing past her study. The Sister followed behind Jenny as she climbed the stairs. "I had my housekeeper set up the guest room, so you can sleep there," Jenny said uncomfortably as they reached the top floor. "My room is down the hall; and there's another bathroom that way," Jenny said, pointing in the direction opposite of her room. She led the way to the aforementioned guest room and opened the door, allowing the Sister in. "Alright?" she asked warily as Sister Adelaide surveyed the room.

The Sister nodded in what Jenny took to be satisfaction.

"Thank you," Sister Adelaide said curtly, obviously just as pleased to have to be in Jennifer Shepard's house as Jenny was to have her there.

"Yeah, sure, no problem," Jenny assured her because that was just what you said. She smiled tightly and clapped her hands together softly. "Well, good night," Jenny bid her, not bothering to wait for a response before she shut the door tightly. She jumped back, bracing herself against the door as she almost collided with Noemi.

"Are you alright?" Noemi asked with a laugh, shifting the basket of laundry to her other hip as Jenny held a hand to her chest and shut her eyes in relief.

"What are you still doing here?" Jenny demanded, moving off of the door.

"It isn't that late," Noemi reminded Jenny, checking her watch. "It's barely seven-thirty. What are you doing home so early?"

Jenny gave her an annoyed stare; and rolled her eyes.

"You won't believe it," she grumbled. She narrowed her eyes, and snatched the heavy-looking basket of clothes from Noemi as if she had only just realized what she was carrying, much to the Latina's surprise.

Noemi stood rooted to the spot a moment, looking after Jenny in shock as the redhead set off down the stairs with the basket before she jogged to catch up with her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded as they reached the foot of the stairs.

"What?" Jenny asked, stopping to turn and face Noemi with a confused look on her face.

Noemi snatched the basket back.

"Why did you take my basket?" she asked.

Jenny snatched the basket from her again, petulantly; and Noemi scoffed in angered disbelief.

"You are pregnant," Jenny informed her pointedly as if the woman herself had no idea there was a fetus screwing with her life.

"I'm aware of that, thank you," Noemi shot back, grabbing the basket back for the last time, moving it just out of Jenny's reach when the redhead reached for it again. "I am also your housekeeper," Noemi said with an indignant look about her. "You have a bullet in one arm," she said matter of factly. She laughed wryly. "I can't exactly clean sitting on a couch with my feet propped up," she pointed out and she walked past Jenny into the laundry room. "What won't I believe?" she asked, tossing clothes into the washing machine.

"The bullet is gone," Jenny reminded her indignantly. "Sister Adelaide," she bit out with contempt in reply to her friend's question; and Noemi looked up.

"I haven't heard that name in years," the Puerto Rican mused aloud. She laughed with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "We gave that old bag hell," she remembered. "She deserved it though." Noemi stopped loading clothing, resting her arm on the basket and wrinkled her brow in thought. "What did we used to call her?" she murmured.

"Pterodactyl," Jenny piped up, laughing at the memory; and Noemi joined in.

"Right," she murmured. "I swear she was one in another life. Hell, maybe this life. She's old enough," she giggled, starting to load the washer again. "I've never heard anyone screech like her. God, she was annoying," she sighed."And that thing she used to do with her arms," she laughed, bending her own close to her chest making claw-like hands in imitation. "I wonder what ever happened to her."

"Oh, I know," Jenny murmured, less than pleased. "That's what you won't believe. She's in the guest room."

Noemi gasped, the detergent cap slipping from her grasp on top of the clothes. She braced her hands on the washer, turning at the waist to look at Jenny incredulously.

"No!" she hissed, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yes," Jenny deadpanned; and a half horrified-half amused laugh escaped Noemi's lips.

"Why?" Noemi demanded, forgetting about the detergent cap as she turned all the way to face Jenny.

"Because my boss is a spiteful bastard and he likes to see me suffer," Jenny grumbled, hopping up onto the dryer.

Noemi pouted sympathetically; but she laughed again.

"What does your boss have to do with that evil old shrew?" she asked.

"Somebody tried to blow up her desk," Jenny said, smiling a little at the idea of it. It wasn't like she was seriously hurt or anything. Her smile was gone as fast as it appeared though. "I surmise Jethro is amused by the idea of me having to deal with the bane of my childhood existence, so he put me on protection duty."

Noemi shook her head.

"Still using words no one else understands I see?" she said. "I swear, I need a dictionary to hold a conversation with you," she teased. She raised a brow, having caught Jenny's slip. "You're on a first name basis with your boss?"

Jenny murmured in non-committal agreement.

"That tends to happen when you throw yourself at said boss and fall into bed with him," she grumbled; and Noemi's eyes lit up.

"Speak," Noemi demanded with an almost maniacal gleam in her eyes. "Speak a lot."

Jenny gave her the side eye, thinking that Noemi was entirely too excited about _her_ severe lack in good judgment.

"I'd rather not," Jenny said; and Noemi grabbed her hand possessively.

"My life sucks," she said bluntly. "I'm living vicariously through you, so speak words now."

"No," Jenny growled; and Noemi glared.

"Come on, Jenny," she whined. "I don't know who your baby's daddy is; I haven't even met your baby. Give me something."

"First of all, don't ever say _'baby daddy'_ again," Jenny said with a grimace. "Ever. You didn't tell me who knocked you up," Jenny shot back childishly.

"Bullshit," Noemi called Jenny out, narrowing her eyes. "You know what asshole knocked me up. _I_ don't know who knocked _you_ up. "

"I didn't get knocked up," Jenny said primly; and Noemi wrinkled her brow. "Long story," was the only elaboration Jenny gave before giving Noemi an exasperated look. "You know, your mother asks far fewer questions."

"Well, you shouldn't have hired me," Noemi teased; and Jenny rolled her eyes.

"You'll meet my daughter; and she talks more than enough for the both of us," Jenny called over her shoulder as she exited the laundry room.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang; and Jenny stopped in her tracks, looking to the door and then back at Noemi before she turned back to the door again. She wasn't expecting anyone. Kelly was with Jethro for the night. She had him pick her up before she brought Sister Adelaide home with her.

Noemi moved to answer the door, but Jenny waved her back.

"I'll get it," the redhead said, walking toward the front door. She looked through the peephole; and a look of horror crossed her face as she yanked the door open to reveal a bloodied Jethro at her door with a practically petrified looking Kelly at his side. "Oh, my God!" she gasped at seeing the full extent of the damage. "What happened?" she demanded urgently, pulling him inside.

She grabbed his face in her hands, earning a wince from him.

"Ow!" he hissed, and she pulled her hands away like she had grabbed a hot pan.

"Sorry," she murmured, grabbing him again with gentler hands. His face was covered in blood and he looked like he had a broken nose: no doubt the cause of Kelly's distress.

Jenny held a hand on his face as she turned back to Noemi, who was standing there in shock. She looked down at Kelly, who was clearly tired. It was nearing her bed time.

"Noemi, bring me a damp cloth, will you?" Jenny requested; and the Latina nodded.

"Yeah, yeah," she agreed, running to do as she was asked.

"Kelly, sit down," Jenny commanded. She needed her out of the way if she was going to deal with Jethro.

"Is Daddy going to be okay?" Kelly asked, rubbing her eye sleepily even though her voice depicted just how scared she still was.

"He'll be fine, honey" Jenny assured her. "I need you to sit down and stay out of my way though, okay?"

Kelly eyed her skeptically, but did as she was told.

"What the hell did you do, Jethro?" Jenny demanded of him as Noemi walked in with the requested cloth.

"I didn't do anything," he grumbled, wincing again as she held the cool cloth on his face, wiping away the mess. "Was Diane."

Jenny stopped; and her eyes flashed.

"Why was Diane at your house?" she asked with a tinge of jealousy behind her words though she would never admit it.

"She was supposed to be getting her stuff—Jesus, Jenny!" he grumbled, pulling back when she fueled her new-found anger into the task of cleaning his face.

She glared at him, yanking him back unsympathetically.

"Don't be such a baby," she murmured, though she winced when his face was clean and there was no question: his nose was broken. "Diane did this to you?" she demanded skeptically, raising a brow. She smacked his hand away when he reached up to touch his face. "What, did she bring her Hulk juice or something?"

"She threw a golf club at me," he deadpanned; and Jenny paused a moment, unsure whether to take him seriously.

When it was clear he was the farthest thing from joking, Jenny's mouth dropped; and her eyes snapped with an irate fire.

"She threw a _golf club_ at you?" she shrieked. "With Kelly in the house, she threw a golf club at you? Is she out of her mind? _I'll kill her_!"

Jethro looked up briefly as Jenny's new housekeeper murmured something to Kelly and led her away from the ticking time bomb that had become Jenny Shepard. The Latin woman had obviously picked up on the explosion that was to ensue.

"It was an accident," he defended Diane; and Jenny turned on him with a disbelieving scoff.

"Please, don't tell me you're trying to defend your bitch lunatic of a wife. She could have killed you," Jenny insisted.

"Ex-wife," he corrected. "You're overreacting," Jethro said. "Diane would have poisoned my food if she wanted to kill me," he added; but Jenny was not amused.

"She is not your ex _yet_. And I am _not_ overreacting!" Jenny defended herself fiercely. "Have you seen your face? I—" she stopped mid-sentence as a thought dawned on her. "Did you drive here?" she asked.

"I didn't fly," Jethro quipped back with a bored expression.

"Don't try to be _funny_, Jethro," Jenny growled. "Have _you_ lost your mind too?" she demanded allowing her hands to fall to her sides with a smack to her thighs. "Or do you just have such poor judgment that you think it's okay to drive your nine-year old daughter through the dark streets of Washington with a possible concussion?" she snapped sharply.

"Where else was I supposed to take her?" he shot back. "Or was I supposed to let her sit there and stare at my bloody face all night?"

"Ellen is right up the street," Jenny pointed out despite knowing that he wasn't particularly fond of the woman or vice-versa; but Ellen loved Kelly. "You could have called a cab, or called _me_ over _there_. For God sakes, you should have made _Diane_ take you to a hospital."

"Well, excuse me for having less than perfect judgment with a nine-iron print on my forehead!" he shot back hotly.

"That's my point!" she barked. She stopped and took a deep, shaky breath coming off of her adrenaline rush. Their conversation/argument had escalated far beyond reasonable limits as usual. "You should go to the hospital," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "That'll need stitches."

"I'm not going to the hospital," he refused petulantly; and she glared at him.

"It was not a suggestion, Jethro," she growled, snatching his keys off of the table.

"I'm _your_ boss," he reminded her pointedly; and she groaned in frustration.

"Gibbs!" she snapped with fed up agitation, just short of stomping her foot. "God! Do you have to be such a stubborn, disagreeable _oaf_?" He only raised a brow as if to say, 'are you done yet?' and she exhaled through her nose. "Fine," she sighed, pressing her lips together before she spoke. "I'll call Ducky."

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Jenny swung the door open not half an hour later to reveal the good doctor standing on her stoop, bag in hand, dressed in his hat and trench coat despite muggy, summer heat.

"Thank you for coming, Ducky," she sighed gratefully, stepping aside to allow him in.

"Not at all my dear," he waved her thanks off airily as she took his coat and hat. "We all know how cantankerous Gibbs can be, especially when it comes to hospitals."

It was not lost on Jenny that the Scottish-man failed to inquire after Jethro's reasons for showing up on his probie's doorstep after six'o'clock; and for that she was glad.

"Ah, Jethro what have you done this time?" Ducky murmured when said man came into view as Jenny led the doctor into the living room.

"Gotten blood on my sofa," Jenny whispered with both shock and contempt as she first noticed the red stains on her cream sofa.

"_Diane_ pitched a golf club over her shoulder," Jethro growled. "Why'd you talk me into asking her to dinner again?" he demanded, eyeing Ducky resentfully as the older man came to stand in front of him.

"She is a perfectly lovely woman if you didn't antagonize her so, Jethro," Ducky admonished, raising a brow at the younger man over his glasses.

"Ha!" Jethro scoffed, looking at the older man in disbelief. "Me? Antagonize her?"

Jenny rolled her eyes and took a seat in her armchair, glancing at the now glaring stains on her sofa once again before she propped her elbow on the arm of the chair and set her chin in her hand while Ducky assessed Jethro's condition.

Only then did it dawn on Jenny to check on Kelly; and she berated herself mentally as she sat upright abruptly. Ducky noticed her movement out of the corner of his eye; and he turned to her slightly.

"Are you alright, dear?" he asked.

"Fine," Jenny assured him absently as she moved to her feet. "I just have to...I forgot about something."

Ducky looked after her in curiosity a moment before he returned his attention to Jethro.

"That was odd," Ducky murmured, only to see the same absent worry on Jethro's face. He looked back in the direction Jenny had gone and back at Jethro with a furrowed brow before he brushed it off, reasoning that he should attend to Jethro's physical state.

Jenny walked into her study, where Noemi had taken Kelly, and onto the end of a conversation.

"...They always fight," Kelly said matter-of-factly. "I don't know you," she said, though not unkindly. "I want my mom."

"Kelly," Jenny murmured, making her presence known as her daughter's dark hair came into view; and Noemi looked up at Jenny like she was some knight in shining armor.

"Mom!" Kelly exclaimed, hopping down out of her chair to run to her mother.

"Hi, sweetheart," Jenny laughed, wrapping her arms around the young brunette. "I'm sorry I was taking care of your dad. Are you alright. I know that must have been scary."

Kelly nodded, shockingly calmer than Jenny had anticipated.

"Is Daddy okay?" Kelly asked, her large eyes the only indication of her distress; and Jenny nodded with a small, reassuring smile.

"He'll be fine, sweetheart," Jenny said. "Diane..." she trailed off.

She trailed off. Despite her dislike for the woman she didn't think it appropriate to bad mouth her in front of Kelly, no matter how mild.

"She threw a golf stick at Daddy's face," Kelly interjected, awe and disbelief coloring her voice.

"Club," Jenny corrected quickly. "But yes, she did," the older redhead agreed; and her lips drew together in her attempts to keep her temper under control. "She shouldn't have done that," was all she could manage and still retain a civil tone. "Stay here with Noemi a bit longer; and then you can take your bath and get ready for bed, okay?" she said.

"No," Kelly almost whined. "Why can't I just go with you?"

"Just for a little while," Jenny promised. "You have to get used to Noemi. She's going to be taking care of you," Jenny reasoned with her. "Remember how Magda and I sat down with you and we talked about how Magda was leaving?" Kelly nodded begrudgingly. "Noemi is Magda's daughter. Don't worry."

"I don't know her," Kelly insisted, narrowing her eyes at Jenny and crossed her arms stubbornly; though she spoke in what she thought was a hushed tone so as not to be rude.

"You will," Jenny said. "Talk to her. She's nice," she whispered as she made her way out the door.

Kelly looked back at Noemi, who looked akin to a deer in headlights; and she sighed in begrudging acquiescence.

When Jenny walked back into the living room, Ducky was still standing over Jethro.

"Well, it doesn't seem to have done any severe damage. I suspect the nose will heal with minimal problems; but you are going to need stitches under that eye, Jethro," the doctor murmured.

"He'll live?" Jenny asked sarcastically with a teasing smirk as she walked into the light; and Ducky looked over his shoulder, chuckling in amusement before he pulled the necessary instruments from his bag and started on stitching Jethro up.

"I think it's safe to say so," Ducky replied indulgently; and Jenny met Jethro's eyes over the older man's shoulder with a look of annoyance; but behind her annoyance was genuine relief that he was alright.

"You should really stop fooling around with redheads, Jethro," Jenny advised with a mischievous glint in her eye. "It's a dangerous habit," she warned with mock stoicism. Jethro glared and she grinned at him as she took her seat. "Oh, lighten up you old fart," she shot back. "It's funny."

"How is this funny?" he growled, his eyes darkening in annoyance; and she raised both brows.

"How is it _not_ funny?" she laughed, before assuming a mock-serious look. "If you had died. Then it wouldn't be funny.

Ducky listened to the interaction between the two; and fought the urge to smile. With Jethro's penchant for leggy redheads, as Jenny had pointed out, and said woman fitting that description he wouldn't be surprised if they ended up as more than friends. It was clear they were already more than partners.

"I do hate to interrupt," Ducky interjected with a knowing smile. "But I'll need you to lean back, Jethro," Ducky requested.

"You'll have a new battle scar," Jenny provoked him. "The Battle of the Exes. Too bad you'll have to tell them your one hundred and fifteen pound ex-wife won."

Jethro glared at her before doing as Ducky requested; and Jenny laughed quietly.

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After he had stitched Jethro up and left the younger man with expressed instructions, Ducky gathered his things.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything before you go, Ducky?" Jenny inquired out of polite courtesy even as she walked him to the door. The doctor had after all just cleaned up a bleeding man in her living room; but she was perfectly fine to see him go. She knew Kelly would be getting restless by then and could come out at any second.

"Oh no, my dear," Ducky declined with a warm smile. "I really ought to get back to Mother. She is going a bit senile, you know," he explained; and Jenny smiled with put on regret.

"Well, thank you, Ducky. You don't know how much I appreciate it," she said, fighting the nervous twitching of her fingers as she held the door open.

"Not at all, Jennifer," he assured her. "It's the least I could do."

The both of them looked back into the house at the sound of a child's voice: Jenny with anxiety, and Ducky with confusion.

"I'll walk you to your car," Jenny offered quickly, stepping out into the night air and yanked the door shut behind her.

"Oh, Jennifer that isn't necessary," Ducky said, but looked past the redhead curiously before he turned to face her in perplexity. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

"What?" Jenny queried with a fake, tight smile; and Ducky narrowed his eyes slightly in suspicion.

"I'm not exactly sure," he admitted. "It sounded like a...child," he said, not quite sure himself what he had heard.

Jenny laughed with a dismissive wave.

"Oh, Ducky, don't be silly," she said, heading down the front steps.

The doctor stayed on his spot a moment before he shook his head, deciding that it was for another time and followed after her.

Jenny stood on the sidewalk with one arm crossed over her chest and gave a small wave as his Morgan pulled away from the curb. The moment he was out of sight, her smile dropped and the stress o the past few minutes was clearly visible on her face.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Ducky. She did. Jethro did. It was just, the less people who knew about Kelly, the easier it would be.

Jenny pulled her door open and nearly collided with the aforementioned child.

"Kelly!" Jenny gasped, bracing herself in the doorway.

"Sorry," Kelly apologized quickly, but she was clearly bouncing on her toes in excitement.

"What is it?" Jenny demanded, knitting her brows at her daughter's sudden change in behavior.

Kelly bared her teeth in a brilliant grin, pointing to the new gap in her mouth in undiluted exuberance.

"Look!" she squealed; and Jenny grinned.

"You lost another tooth?" Jenny asked, bending over to grab Kelly's jaw gently and get a better look.

Kelly nodded vigorously without losing her grin.

"Noemi pulled it out for me," she replied; and pulled back to reveal the tiny tooth in the plam of her hand.

"Did she?" Jenny murmured, standing up straight with an indulgent smile. "Well, let's get your mouth rinsed out though, huh?"

"Yeah," Kelly agreed, pulling a face as if just realizing the metallic taste of blood in her mouth.

As they walked through the living room, Noemi sauntered in with a Chesire like grin on her face.

"What?" Jenny snapped, not liking the look on her face on bit.

Noemi looked at Jethro and back at Jenny before her grin shrunk to a smirk, though it was no less discerning.

"You were right," Noemi said. "Your daughter is delightful little chatterbox."

Jenny rolled her eyes, leading Kelly up the stairs. What the child had told the gossip loving Latin, Jenny didn't know. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

"Do not harass him," was all the redhead said as she went up the stairs after her daughter. She stopped on the third stair up. "On second thought, do," she amended; and she could practically feel his eyes on her back. She turned to see that he was indeed glaring daggers. "Jethro, Noemi. Noemi, Jethro," were her quick introductions before she left the ex-Marine in the clutches of her friend.

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Jenny stood next to her daughter ten minutes later as she put her tooth under her pillow, looking around in distaste at the mess in the room. Apparently Kelly had taken after father in that aspect.

"I want this room clean tomorrow," Jenny said with clear authority. She had been asking Kelly to do it for three days. Kelly looked up in surprise before her expression turned to dread. She _hated_ cleaning.

"Can't Noemi do it?" she begged, pulling her best puppy dog eyes. "Just this time."

"No she cannot," Jenny denied her pointedly. "Noemi does not clean your room. You do."

"Why does she clean yours?" Kelly demanded; and Jenny paused, trying to come up with a response.

"Because I pay her to," Jenny replied smartly; and Kelly grabbed five dollars from her dresser.

"I can pay her to clean mine," Kelly said matter-of-factly; and Jenny laughed.

"_You_ will clean your room," Jenny said more gently, but it was still clear that she was not budging. "Yes?" she prompted, raising both brows expectantly.

"Yes," Kelly grumbled with a half pout; and Jenny smiled.

"I love you," she told Kelly; and the young brunette scrunched up her nose at her.

"Yeah, yeah," Kelly said half playfully as she turned for the door; and Jenny gasped in mock hurt and outrage.

"Say it _back_," she demanded; and Kelly giggled. Jenny grabbed her, tickling her sides; and Kelly shrieked in laughter. "Say it," Jenny laughed.

"Mommy!" Kelly shouted in protest through her laughter, writhing under Jenny's attack. "Okay, okay," she acquiesced. "I love you too," she giggled; and Jenny stopped her tickling, trailing off into soft laughter.

"You do?" she asked; and Kelly grinned, nodding.

"Yes," she laughed, throwing her arm around Jenny's neck.

"Good," Jenny whispered, tapping Kelly's nose affectionately with a loving smile.

"Are you and Daddy coming to my recital next Saturday?" Kelly asked as they headed down the stairs.

"You'll have to ask your father, but I'll be there," Jenny assured her. "I said I would."

"I know, but sometimes you can't come," Kelly reminded her dropping her eyes to the steps; and Jenny bit her lip, her eyes filling with regret.

"I never make promises I can't keep, Kel," Jenny said softly. "When I say I'll be there, I'll be there."

"It's our last one," Kelly impressed on her; and Jenny laughed.

"Kelly, baby, I promise I will be sitting in the front row watching you," she insisted, shaking her head when Kelly finally smiled confidently. "What do you think about going to see your grandmother this weekend though?" she asked, changing the subject.

Kelly's eyes lit up, and her smile morphed into a grin.

"Yes!" she agreed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She did want to see her grandmother, but in all truthfulness the bulk of her excitement was tied to seeing her horse. Joanne had bestowed him upon her when Kelly was six and he was just a pony. "When?" Kelly demanded.

"Friday," Jenny laughed, glad to see Kelly so excited.

"Yay!" Kelly squealed and in her excitement she missed a step on the stairs. It would have been a nasty fall if it were not for Jenny's impossibly quick actions in snatching for the child's shirt before pulling her back into her arms. It was almost as if he had seen the fall coming.

"For God' sake, Kelly," Jenny sighed in relief although it was meant to be scolding. "You have to be careful."

"Yeah," Kelly agreed, still visibly shaken as the shock started to drain from her expression. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Mother's intuition is a funny thing," came the Scottish lilt Jenny knew all too well.

The redhead looked up in dread, praying she was hallucinating; but alas, Donald Mallard still stood in her foyer.

"Ducky," she whispered; and the doctor's eyes twinkled.

"Most certainly a child," he said, confirming his observations from earlier.

"I'd forgotten my hat," he said, explaining why he was back in her house again. "Your housekeeper was so kind as to let me in."

"Was she?" Jenny asked in a strained voice.

Both adults' gazes snapped to Kelly as she slipped out of Jenny's embrace; and jogged down the stairs to stand in front of Ducky.

"I'm Kelly," she introduced herself with a friendly smile; and Ducky could not help but smile himself.

When Kelly smiled it was almost impossible not to smile back.

"Doctor Donald Mallard," he replied, making quick observations of the young girl. There was no mistaking she was Jethro's child with her sharp, blue eyes and dark looks. "But _you_ may call me Ducky."

"_Ducky_?" Kelly asked with a giggle; and he laughed.

"An unfortunate childhood nickname, my dear."

"I like Ducky," Kelly said consolingly; and he smiled, immediately liking the young girl. He looked back up at Jenny to see said woman with a small, indulgent smile directed at the young brunette.

Kelly had was a surprisingly good reader of people. The fact that she had taken to Ducky so quickly was evidence of that. Jenny had never met a better man.

"It is very nice to meet you, Kelly," he said. "But perhaps you wouldn't mind if I spoke to your mother a moment," he requested; and Kelly looked back at Jenny.

Jenny nodded.

"Go sit with your Dad," she said; and Kelly shrugged before running off to do as she was told.

Jenny and Ducky heard Kelly calling for her father as Jenny sat down on the steps. She looked up at Ducky like a child under reprimand, not sure what to say to him. He considered Jethro a close friend; and she liked to think he thought well enough of her too. It had to hurt him that they hadn't said anything. As she looked into his eyes she knew that was true.

"Ducky," she sighed, trailing off at a loss for words.

"She's a beautiful child," he complimented, looking off after Kelly. "I can see Jethro in her," he said before turning back to Jenny with a pointed look.

"We were trying to protect her, Ducky," Jenny offered in lame explanation and looked up to see if he had bought it, only to get the eerie feeling he could see what she was really thinking. "And me," Jenny sighed quietly.

Ducky nodded with a small, knowing smile; and risked his bad knees to take a seat next to her.

"I would not betray your trust, my dear," he impressed on her; and Jenny met his gaze with a weak smile.

"I know, Ducky," she assured him, surprised at how kind he was being. Then again, he always seemed to have had a soft spot for her.

"This is a risky game the two of you are playing, however," he murmured; and Jenny's eyes hardened.

"Maybe," she agreed. "But it is necessary."

"You'll come down to see me tomorrow," he proposed with a twinkle in his eyes. "I'll have cup of Earl Grey waiting for you." he said; and Jenny laughed.

Much as he liked to say he wasn't, Donald Mallard was a _gossip_. He preferred to say he liked a good story.

Jenny nodded, an moved to her feet, holding a hand out to help Ducky.

He smiled gratefully, albeit a little embarrassed.

"Thank you, Jennifer," he said, following behind her into the living room where they found a very sleepy looking Kelly snuggled up to her father's chest.

"Come on, Kelly. It's time for bed," Jenny said, reaching her hand out for Kelly to take.

"Okay," Kelly mumbled sleepily, though she made no effort to move.

Jenny rolled her eyes; and bent over to pick her up.

"Jen, I'll take her," Jethro said, and Jenny raised a brow.

"Oh, that's a brilliant idea," she quipped and shook her head. "I've got her, Jethro. Don't worry about it."

Jethro looked up at Ducky as Jenny disappeared from sight to see the older man looking at him reproachfully. Jethro cleared his throat nervously.

"Duck," he said simply.

"You never thought to tell me about her, Jethro?" Ducky asked; and it was unclear whether he was talking about Jenny or Kelly.

"Never asked," was Gibbs' gruff reply.

"Do you really think it wise to be training her?" Ducky demanded and there was no doubt who he was speaking of.

"Don't really have a choice, Duck," Jethro shot back. "Morrow put her on my team."

"A choice he would no doubt remedy should he learn of your history," Ducky pointed out, taking a seat on the couch beside the younger man.

"And what would that do?" Gibbs demanded. "Get her fired? Get both of us fired? Hell, at the least everything she's done so far would be questioned."

They sat in silence a moment before Ducky spoke again.

"Well, things certainly make much more sense now," he said, peering over his glasses at Gibbs.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gibbs demanded; and Ducky fixed him with a look.

_As if he didn't know_.

"Well, Jethro, you aren't exactly known for your communication skills. You never have taken to new agents very well, especially those under your tutelage," he pointed out. He cracked a small smile given the information he know knew. "Though, I must say, it was always quite clear that you took an immediate liking to Ms. Shepard."

"She's a good agent, Duck. I never gave her any special treatment," Gibbs defended himself lowly.

"Oh, don't mistake me, Jethro. I wasn't undercutting Jennifer's abilities. She's a brilliant young woman. Simply making an observation."

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Jenny jogged down the stairs not five minutes later.

"I take it Jennifer was the regret," she heard Ducky murmur sadly, and she stopped in her tracks.

_Regret_?

There were certainly times that she had hated Jethro. There were times she thought she had just wanted to see him stop breathing. He was a brutish, and infuriating, and she was lucky if he uttered more than three full sentences a week sometimes; but she had _never_ regretted him.

_And the fact that he had clearly discussed his apparent regret with Ducky?_

She shook herself, and steeled her features, walking into the living room with a fake smile. Both men looked up in surprise, but Gibbs narrowed his eyes at her. He saw straight past her put on smile. She looked away from him abruptly and settled her gaze on Ducky.

"Jen," Jethro started; and she snapped her head in his direction, her eyes flashing with hurt guised in anger.

"_What_?" she growled harshly, taking even herself by surprise; and the temperature in the room instantly dropped several degrees.

Jethro glared at her, taken aback at her sudden change in demeanor; and Ducky looked between the two of them in confusion.

"Well, I dare say I should be leaving," Ducky spoke up, eyeing the pair warily. "There's no telling what mother's gotten into by now."

Jenny stared at Jethro a moment before she turned her full attention back to Ducky.

"I'll walk you out," she offered with a tight smile; and Ducky nodded uncomfortably.

Jethro stood in the middle of the living room in bewilderment, wondering what he had done this time to deserve Jenny's sudden attitude as she disappeared into the foyer with Ducky. It wasn't long before he heard the slam of the door; and when she walked back in he was still standing there, though his expression was a little more irritated than concerned.

She threw him a look; and scoffed with a mirthless laugh, shaking her head as she walked past him heading for her study.

He stayed in his spot only a moment before he went after. He came to a stop in the doorway of her study as she poured herself a glass of bourbon and shut the liquor cabinet before making her way to her desk.

"Is there something you want or do you just plan to stand there all night?" she snapped, and it had none of the teasing playfulness of most of her biting remarks.

She was clearly legitimately upset.

"You got a problem or something?" he asked.

"Why on _earth_ would you think that?" she shot back in weary sarcasm, taking a generous sip from her glass. She winced at the burn of the alcohol against her throat, and pinched her nose before looking back at him. She shook her head, and sighed heavily as she ran a hand through her hair. "It's nothing," she said, but the sad look in her eyes drove him on.

"Jenny," he growled.

"I'm fine. Leave it," she said, the alcohol having given her a little liquid calming.

"Jesus, Jenny you were fine fifteen minutes ago," he said, her Dr. act genuinely irking him. "Normally all you want to do is talk," he quipped, hoping to get a rise out of her; but all he got was a baleful glare. "Jen," he sighed in exasperation. He knew from past experience that if whatever was bothering her was his fault and he didn't find out, there would be hell to pay later. "What? Are you upset because Ducky found out?" he demanded.

Jenny met his gaze, tugging the inside of her lip between her teeth. She didn't want to say it because she knew it would come out sounding _petty, _and_ weak_ and downright _pitiful_; but apparently her mouth and brain had an agreement to make her humiliate herself on a constant basis, so she said it anyway.

"You regret me, Jethro?" she asked softly with a weak smile that served more to leave her with some shred of her dignity rather than bring any real humor into things.

He narrowed his eyes at her in confusion as she dropped her gaze to her glass before realization dawned on him.

"Hey," he growled, reaching out to snatch her glass from her as she held it to her lips.

She looked up at him in outrage only to be taken aback at the look of fierce determination in his eyes.

"I don't regret you," he said with such conviction she almost believed him. "Don't ever think I regret you, Jenny." She raised a brow at him skeptically; and he knew he would have to explain what she had likely overheard. "I regret letting you go," he stressed tightly; and her eyes softened.

They sat in terse silence a moment before her heavy sigh broke it.

"You didn't," she said. "Let me go," she elaborated. "I ran."

"I sure as hell didn't come chasing after you," he pointed out, obviously regretting his decision; and she shrugged, pulling her knee up to rest her chin on it.

"I'm glad you didn't," she admitted with a sad smile. "I probably would have fallen right back into your arms," she scoffed. She paused with a pained look. "That wouldn't have been a good thing, Jethro," she whispered, holding a hand to her neck sub-consciously. "Not then."

"And now?" he inquired expectantly.

"Now?" she repeated, thinking about it. "Now, you should get some sleep." she said evasively, setting her glasses on her nose before a satisfied and genuinely amused smirk settled on her face. "It isn't everyday a man takes a nine iron to the face and lives to tell the tale," she murmured loftily without looking at him as he started on a stack of paperwork that had been sitting on the corner of her desk.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" he demanded, leaning casually against her liquor cabinet.

"Well, Kelly is in her room, the dragon you cursed me with is locked away in the guest room, and my couch is meant to look pretty, not be slept on. At least it was until you got blood all over it," she said, peering up at him pointedly over her glasses. "I _suppose_ that only leaves my room."

"Where are you going to sleep?" he asked; and she raised a brow.

"Well, _I'm_ certainly not sleeping on the couch," she replied primly, and laughed softly. "Don't worry, Jethro. I'm not having sex with you with a nun down the hall. I'm surprised we haven't woken her with all of our racket. I wouldn't want your screams to be the thing that does us in," she teased with a devilish grin and she walked around her desk, heading for the liquor cabinet to refill her glass.

"That why I alway had teeth marks on my shoulder? To keep _me _quiet?" he shot back; and she smirked, looking up at him through her lashes as she swallowed.

"I'll be up later," she said, sitting back in her chair and slid her papers toward her. "I have work to do," she murmured in distaste.

"I didn't give you any work," he contradicted her, and she looked up at him with a smirk.

"From the job where I'm the boss," she shot back. Although her priorities had changed since her father's death and he had given up the day to day running of her company; she still owned it and made the big decisions.

"Why don't you sell it?" he suggested as he had time and time again.

"Because if anyone is going to run all of my hard work into the ground, it'll be me," she said stubbornly as she signed off on a form with a flourish. "Besides, NCIS will hardly pay Kelly's college tuition and lend us a comfortable retirement," he murmured distractedly a she scanned over their summer profits.

"_Us_?" he queried with an amused smirk, and Jenny laughed softly at her small slip.

"We're joined at the hip, old man," she said with a teasing smile. "Unless of course you decide to marry another Diane," she said seriously despite the wicked gleam in her eyes. "Then I'll just assume you've died by golf club and run off to some deserted island with my pool boy."

He chuckled and bent over to touch his lips to her temple briefly.

"Good night, Jen," he said, laughter still coloring his voice as he walked out of her study.

"Night," she murmured as she allowed the smallest of smiles to tug at the corners of her lips.

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Jenny woke with a groan the next morning, opening her eyes blearily at the unfamiliar weight on her waist and distinct lack of a morning chill.

She moved to get out of bed, but rolled her eyes when his arm tightened around her waist.

"Jethro!" she hissed, warranting no more than a disgruntled grumble from him. "Get up," she commanded.

He mumbled something unintelligible, and she wrinkled her brow in annoyed confusion.

"What?" she demanded.

"Stop moving," he said louder, though his words were still slurred by sleep; and he just came off sounding like a loud drunk.

She snorted and pushed his arm, which he finally allowed to slide off of her. She reached over the edge of the bed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and slid it over her arms before buttoning it up enough to look decent.

"Get up Jethro," she said again, pushing herself up off of the bed. "You're worse than Kelly."

He rolled over with a groan and pulled her pillow over his head, further iterating her point as she walked out of the room. She padded down the hall, rubbing out the crick in her neck with a yawn as she descended the stairs intent on making a strong cup of coffee. She was allowed a good half an hour to herself every morning before Magda came in and Kelly had to wake up. Needless to say, she was warranted in her small jump of surprise when she found Noemi already standing in the kitchen.

"Noemi?" she greeted her friend slowly, crossing her arm over her chest self-consciously.

The housekeeper spun to face her quickly, and whatever she had been planning to say was wiped from her mind as a scandalized grin split her face.

"Oh my God," Noemi murmured in shock.

"What?" Jenny demanded, wrinkling her brow warily.

"Did you sleep with him?" Noemi asked, her expression a mesh of strange, giddy pride and bewilderment. "His car is still here."

"No!" Jenny hissed vehemently, and Noemi's gasped.

"Yes you _did_, you whore!" she giggled.

"I should hope not," Sister Adelaide said disapprovingly, making her presence known; and Jenny let out a strangled sound of embarrassment. "And I suggest you refrain from using the Lord's name in vain, Ms. Cruz," Sister Adelaied added, giving Noemi a pointed glare.

Both Jenny and Noemi shrunk back a bit under the older woman's stare, eyeing her as if they were the tiny little birds and she was the hawk about to snatch them up and feed them to her young.

Jenny looked up as Jethro walked in—shirtless no less, drawing both Noemi's and Sister Adelaide's gaze in the same direction. Jenny whimpered in mortification and Jethro at least had the decency to recognize the situation and rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

Jenny gave Sister Adelaide a weak smile.

"This isn't—" she started off, but quickly realized there was really no use, and shook her head. "Never mind."

_Honestly, could her day get any worse?_

"Mom," Kelly mumbled, walking into the already overcrowded kitchen rubbing her eyes.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Jenny muttered under her breath.

* * *

Well, it's long overdue; so I hope you enjoyed it. More of Sister Adelaide next chapter. :D

_xoxo-M_


	9. Chapter 9

**Woah, what an awesome response last chapter. It made me so happy :) And who knew I had so many fellow Rizzoli & Isles fans? I love you guys all that much more now.**

**So it's up! And I managed it within a month. So sad that that's an accomplishment. Oh well. I hope you like it guys. :)**

* * *

Jennifer Shepard stood in her closet yanking clothes down off hangers like something akin to a three-year old after a failed temper tantrum. She was mortified, she was absolutely humiliated; and to make matters worse, Jethro was not taking her seriously. In fact, he was _laughing _at her.

"It isn't funny, Gibbs," she growled lowly through her teeth, snatching her shirt over her head. "It's humiliating," she snapped, pulling her hair out from her collar. "This is your fault," she decided, flinging an accusing finger in his direction.

"_My _fault?" he demanded, raising a brow expectantly, though he was more concerned with the green lace panties that disappeared as she hopped into a rather tight pair of jeans.

She looked up at him with her green eyes flashing, clearly ready to rip him a new one only to follow his line of sight and roll her eyes.

"This is so not the time," she growled, glaring up at him through her lashes knowingly, cracking a triumphant little grin when she managed to button her pants without an unsightly muffin top. Her grin was gone as fast as it came though, and she was back to glaring at Jethro. "This is your fault," she said again.

"Said that," he reminded her, leaning against her bedpost with an infuriating, amused look about him.

"Well, I am saying it _again_," she snapped, looking around wildly for her shoes while maintaining a distinctly irate nature. "You shouldn't even be here," she reminded him. "If you hadn't been such an _idiot_ you _wouldn't _be here," she ranted, slipping into a pair of insanely high heels.

"You're going to break our ankle," he warned in a lazy sort of way.

"I haven't yet," she pointed out, twisting her hair into a bun at the back of her head. "Where was I?" she asked, clearly having lost her train of thought. "Oh, right," she remembered, pointing at him. "You're an idiot."

He made a sound between a scoff and a laugh, but decided he would let her finish her ranting.

"If you hadn't been so stupid, you never would have gotten a smashed up face, your daughter wouldn't be scarred for life, and you _never would have been in my bed_," she bit out the last of her logic, shoving him in retaliation as she walked past him.

Jethro resisted the urge to roll his eyes for no other reason than the fact that Jenny really would break his nose.

"She's not scarred for life," he assured her. "She's fine."

"Yes, and now she wants to know _why I was wearing Daddy's shirt_," Jenny mimicked Kelly in a high-pitched voice.

Jethro choked in an attempt to stifle his laughter, and Jenny looked up at him sharply.

"Do _not_ laugh at me," she almost whined, pitching a pen projectile at his face.

Jethro snorted, smacking the pen away just in time.

"What did you tell her?" he asked, obviously enjoying this whole disaster far too much.

"That I was cold," Jenny replied, rolling her eyes at her own lame excuse. She smiled tightly, clearly not amused. "And your little smart ass told me I should put on some pants before requesting that I feed her."

The child in question ran in at that very moment looking altogether outraged and miserable at the same time.

"Mom," she whined.

"What, what?" Jenny demanded quickly at the look on Kelly's face.

Kelly thrust a piece of paper into Jenny's hand. It was a very nice piece of stationary, but a piece of paper nonetheless. Jethro took the few steps to stand next to Jenny and started to read over her shoulder to himself.

_Dear Kelly,_

_I came by tonight to collect your tooth and leave you payment. Unfortunately, because of the condition of your bedroom I had a terrible time even making it to your bed with my life. I assure you, it was quite the trial. Once there, I was unable to locate the tooth due to the amount of pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals in your bed._

_I will have to return on a different night. Perhaps between now and then you might take the time to clean and organize your room. I bet, if you ask your mother very nicely she might even help you._

_Much love,_

_The Tooth Fairy_

Jethro looked to Jenny, who was hiding a smile of her own, and tried his very best not to laugh.

"Oh, honey," Jenny murmured, clicking her tongue in feigned sympathy. "I did tell you to clean your room."

"I was going to," Kelly insisted with the mot earnest look Jenny had ever seen. "And now all I have is this stupid tooth," Kelly said, holding out her hand to reveal the tiny canine with a disgruntled pout on her face.

"Well, she said she would be back," Jenny reasoned logically. "You just have to clean your room and put the tooth back under the pillow on your made up bed so she can find it."

"What if she doesn't come back?" Kelly demanded.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm positive she will," Jenny said with confidence; and Kelly sighed dramatically.

"Fine," she said, running off to-Jenny presumed, clean her room.

"You're a cruel woman, Shepard," Jethro laughed; and Jenny grinned.

"Devious is the politically correct term," she teased. "This morning was my karma," she decided.

"You should probably wear pants when you leave the room from now on," he quipped; and she looked at him in outraged shock.

Soon enough she managed to wipe the dumbfounded look off of her face and she punched him in the gut.

"You-!" she started only to break off in a shriek of laughter when he spun her and pinned her to the bed. "Ow!" she giggled in protest, curling her leg up when he pinched her thigh in retaliation. "It was very stressful, you understand?" she murmured, a smirk finally gracing her face.

He murmured a noncommittal agreement against her skin and he felt him smile into her shoulder.

"Oh, it's _very_ clear that you two couldn't _possibly_ be sleeping together," Noemi's sarcastic tone rang out from the doorway; and Jenny jumped, whacking Jethro in the face which elicited a yell of outrage from him. "What on _earth_ was I thinking?" Noemi continued, walking into the bedroom, seemingly unaffected by the damage she had just done.

"Are you okay?" Jenny laughed, getting up on her knees as Jethro glared at her. "I'm sorry," she apologized, failing to stifle a laugh at his expense. Jenny rested a brief, comforting hand on his shoulder before turning to Noemi and narrowing her eyes. "You do understand that this is _my_ bedroom?" she demanded.

"Is it?" Noemi asked, with feigned surprise and a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Jenny watched as Noemi immediately turned about five shades of green and ran for the bathroom.

If the horrible retching sounds were any indication, her morning sickness had kicked in. Karma was a spiteful little bitch.

"You know, I may as well just sleep with you for all the trouble I go through not sleeping with you," Jenny mumbled, giving Jethro the side-eye.

"Works for me," he said, raising his brows suggestively; and Jenny rolled her eyes.

"I see your morning sickness has made an appearance," she commented a little to cheerfully when Noemi walked back out, considerably less smug.

"Along with it's friends afternoon and middle of the night sickness," Noemi grumbled. She sighed heavily and directed her next statement at both Jenny and Jethro. The latter seemed to be recovering quickly from the unintentional attack on his face. "Sister Hellcat is down there terrorizing your offspring."

"And you left her all alone?" Jenny demanded, horrified as she clambered off of the bed.

"Oh, she's your kid alright," Noemi announced gleefully. "I'm not sure who I should worry about, mini Shepard or the old biddy."

"I would go with the smaller one," Jenny said, already making her way into the hallway at a quick pace. "Sister Adelaide might eat her," Jenny quipped dryly as they jogged down the stairs.

As they made their way through the living room, they caught the amusing end of a conversation between Kelly and Sister Adelaide.

"You talk quite a lot for someone so young," Sister Adelaide observed, a hint of disdain lacing her words.

Jenny's mouth dropped angrily from her place by the kitchen doorway; and she moved

As if she were ready to throttle Sister Adelaide, only to have Noemi yank her back. Noemi held a finger to her lips and held a staying hand out to Jenny.

"You talk quite a little for someone so old," Kelly replied matter-of-factly, chewing the last of her pancakes unaffectedly. There was no outright disrespect in her tone, though it was clear from her word choice that she was being mocking.

Noemi raised a brow at Jenny from their place out of sight as if to say, 'See?' A slow grin split Jenny's face; and she stayed where he was, peeking around the corner, pacified for the time being.

Sister Adelaide narrowed her eyes at the Auburn-haired child across from her; and Kelly looked back at her, seemingly indifferent as she munched on a piece of bacon.

And then the strangest thing happened. Jenny was sure for a moment that the world was about to combust at any minute.

Sister Adelaide _smiled. _The insufferable, callous horror of a woman actually smiled an honest to goodness smile.

"I like you," Sister Adelaide said decidedly, sitting back in her chair with a look of lofty acceptance on her face.

"I don't know if I like you yet," Kelly replied truthfully. "But I might," she added with a close-lipped smile; and Sister Adelaide laughed.

For sure, there had to be some invisible record playing somewhere, or Jenny was dreaming. That had to be it. She was dreaming, because there was no way in _hell_ that tinkling little sound was Sister Adelaide's laugh. A cackle…that was more fitting…and fire needed to come out of her mouth.

"Oh my God!" Jenny finally exclaimed, surprising even herself with her volume.

Both Kelly and Sister Adelaide looked up; and Noemi hissed the same words, shoving her in annoyance.

"Ms. Shepard," Sister Adelaide acknowledged her, though her smile was gone; and she had that customary look of contempt and disdain once again. "And I take it Ms. Cruz is with you?"

"She does work here," Jenny shot back as she walked into the kitchen and headed for the coffee maker.

"Not surprising," Sister Adelaide murmured, raising both brows in clear judgment.

"Listen, you old bat-!" Noemi started, storming into the kitchen with an angry finger pointed at the old woman only to have Jenny cut her off.

"Noemi!" Jenny interjected sharply, albeit reluctantly.

Noemi inhaled through her nose; and smiled tightly.

"Fine," she sighed heavily. A mischievous glint flashed in her eyes; and she smiled. "This is a step up, you know?" she informed Sister Adelaide very seriously. "I used to be a prostitute. My best John knocked me up; and Jenny was so kind as to take me in."

Sister Adelaide rolled her eyes and Noemi grinned, clearly rather pleased with herself.

"What's a prostitute?" Kelly asked, looking up curiously; and Jenny's growled low in her throat.

"Don't worry about it," Jenny said, glaring daggers at Noemi who had the decency to grimace in apology and back hastily out of the room.

"I want to know," Kelly insisted, genuinely curious.

"Diane," Jenny grumbled under her breath in response.

"What?" Kelly pushed, seemingly confused.

"Ask your father," Jenny said, turning to her with a trustworthy smile.

"Ask me what?" Jethro demanded, walking into the kitchen wearing the same shirt Jenny had been so scandalously caught in that very morning.

"What's a prostitute?" Kelly asked once again with an ironically innocent look on her face; and Jethro turned to Jenny slowly, his eyes demanding _why_ she would put him in this position.

"Uh," Jethro trailed off; and cleared his throat, trying to decide how best to explain this to his nine-year old.

"Mom says, Diane," Kelly offered; and Jenny gasped, choking on hot coffee; and her eyes watered in pain.

"Oh my God," she finally rasped, looking up to see Jethro eyeing her with a near insane look in his eyes. "I'm sorry," was all she could manage in a hoarse voice, shaking her head.

"So is a prostitute an accountant?" Kelly pressed.

"Sure," Jethro ground out.

Prostitutes had to account for money. It wasn't a complete lie.

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"You told her Diane was a prostitute," Jethro hissed as they stepped off of the elevator to their floor.

"I did not tell her Diane was a prostitute," Jenny insisted defensively. "I made a snarky comment under my breath. I didn't think she could hear me."

"Now she's going to tell Diane that I said she was a prostitute," he snapped, walking ahead of her; and Jenny stopped, narrowing her eyes.

"_Why_ would she be seeing Diane again?" she demanded, finally making her way to her desk.

"How the hell should I know?" he shot back. "With my God damned luck she'll see her somewhere; and then _I'll _have to see Diane."

Sister Adelaide cleared her throat, reminding them of her presence at Jethro's ill use of the Lord's name; and she brushed between the both of them. Somehow Jenny had managed to trick Jethro into driving to NCIS with Sister Adelaide; and the woman had been glaring at him in hard contempt since they left the house. He was hard pressed to think it would not be ending any time soon. Between the Sister and Jenny, for the first time in his life, Gibbs was praying for Stan Burley to walk in and make some obscene joke.

"Well, just so long as I don't have to see her," Jenny said, taking her seat.

"Hey, boss!" Stan called over the bullpen in greeting, unperturbed when he received nothing more than a disgruntled glare in response. Stan tilted his head a bit in confusion before an impish grin spread across his face. "Hey, boss, didn't you wear that shirt yesterday?" he asked, completely surpassing the glaring stitches under Gibbs' eye.

Thatgot Gibbs attention. His head shot up, and his glare darkened at seeing the look on Burley's face.

"Who's the girl, Gibbs?" Jenny teased, her eyes sparkling with mischievous amusement as she crossed one leg over the other, sending her skirt up a few inches. "Let me guess: redhead, legs for days, hot temper, brilliantly witty. Am I getting warmer?"

Gibbs said nothing, merely continuing with his menacing glaring. Jenny laughed; and Burley chuckled as Decker walked in.

"What's funny?" their final team member asked, looking between the three of them with an amused smirk at the stormy look on Gibbs' face coupled with Stan and Jenny's obvious delight at the fact.

"Gibbs has a lady friend," Jenny informed him, leaning forward conspiratorially before sitting back in her chair with a grin, sending a mercilessly teasing look in the aforementioned man's direction.

"Already, boss?" Decker asked, joining in on the fun. He turned back to Jenny. "Guess you're out of a Marine, Shep," he said in reference to the rumors of her _involvement_ with her boss.

"Oh, poo," Jenny deadpanned sarcastically before turning to Gibbs. "I'm hurt, Gibbs," she said, obviously feigning dramatic upset despite the unmistakable laughter dancing in her eyes.

"Did your uh, _activities_ get a little out of hand?" she asked, tapping the spot on her face where the stitches were on his with her index finger.

Clearly, she was not affording him any allowances today.

"Diane," he grumbled, her questioning having warranted the attention of the male members of his team.

"Oh my, has the Redheaded Witch of the West reeled you in again," she murmured in mock sympathy, quite proud of her clever barb in reference to Diane's hailing from Seattle. "Well, that does explain the violence," she acquiesced.

Both Burley and Decker snickered, only to be silenced by a rather pointed glare from their boss.

"You want weekend duty for the month, Shepard?" he threatened; and Jenny threw her hands up in surrender, though a bemused smirk remained on her face.

"I'm only poking fun, Gibbs," she insisted reassuringly as she moved to her feet. "I'm going to harass something out of Hodges," she announced, making her way toward the elevator.

Once Jenny had stepped into said elevator and the doors closed behind her Burley rolled his chair across the bullpen toward Sister Adelaide moving his feet like a child in a car Flintstone-style.

Sister Adelaide looked up at him with a withering look that almost deflected his advance. Almost.

He grinned his most boyishly charming smile, but she only narrowed his eyes further. He cleared his throat in slight embarrassment; and regrouped.

"So, what kind of kid was Red?" he asked; and both Gibbs and Decker looked up.

They too wondered at the back of their mind; but Stan was clearly far too excited at the notion of such information.

"_Red?_" the Sister demanded sharply, and Stan backtracked.

"Yeah, Jenny," he clarified; and Sister Adelaide rolled her eyes at the moniker.

She met him with sharp, grey eyes; and pursed her lips together in a sour expression at the many memories of a young Jennifer Shepard.

"Jennifer Shepard did not like being told what to do," she replied, garnering a snort from Gibbs, a chuckle from Stan and an honest to God guffaw from Decker.

Sister Adelaide looked between the three of them in annoyance. She did _not_ see the humor in _that_. Jennifer Shepard had been a little hell raiser to put it kindly.

"Yeah, that's still true," Stan laughed, but Sister Adelaide's face remained stony.

"You think that's funny?" she demanded; and the laugher was wiped from Stan's face, replaced by admonished apprehension.

"No," he insisted. "No, of course not." He tried to gather his speech again for the second time in the past five minutes, quickly beginning to see what had Jenny so uncomfortable. "Did she do anything embarrassing?" he asked with a conspiring grin.

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Jenny did harass their forensic scientist into moving the fingerprints found at the Bauer scene up on his list: up as in immediately. She saw it fitting to visit the medical examiner while she was down there. He had requested a visit; and she was les than eager to see Sister Adelaide more than need be. She would have nightmares for weeks after this whole thing was over.

She walked into autopsy, the mechanic whoosh of the door signaling her presence. Ducky looked up from a body; and Jenny grimaced. There was a reason she tended to stay out of autopsy.

"Jennifer," Ducky greeted her warmly; and noting her slightly green expression he covered the corpse on the table. He then turned to his assistant. "Ms. Harris, would you go see Mr. Hodges about those test results?" he requested; and Sunny did a little curtsy with a teasing smile.

"Anything for you Dr. Mallard," she replied with a playfully patronizing bat of her lashes. "I'm Sunny by the way," she introduced herself, holding out a hand to Jenny before she passed said redhead.

Jenny had been on leave when Sunny started.

"Shepard," Jenny replied. "Jenny Shepard."

"Pleasure," Sunny said with a brilliant grin before bouncing on her heel and heading for her original destination.

"Peculiar girl, that one," Ducky murmured as he dried his hands and went about starting a pot of tea.

"I like her," Jenny murmured, making a note to get to know the woman.

Ducky chuckled, taking a seat at his desk as Jenny took that as invitation for her to do the same.

"Yes, well, I suppose the two of you do share several personality traits," he murmured.

"Are you calling me peculiar, Doctor Mallard?" Jenny asked with a tilt of her head in inquiry, raising a brow despite the smirk playing at her lips.

"Not at all, my dear," Ducky insisted, clasping his hands in his lap. "Now, what brings you to see me?"

"You did request to see my face today," she reminded him, crossing her legs in her chair.

"That I did," he agreed. "Though I doubt that is your lone reason for venturing all the way down here," he said with a knowing and amused twinkle in his eyes.

He had heard of the apparent monstrosity of a woman that was terrorizing Jennifer Shepard. One would be hard pressed to find anyone in NCIS who had not. When an agent, let alone a female one came along that could hold her own against Agent Gibbs it garnered a certain amount of respect despite her probationary status. The fact that _anyone_ had said woman even the tiniest bit antsy was cause for interest: or so it seemed.

"I may be trying to avoid a veritable hag," she murmured, picking invisible lint off of her skirt; and Ducky chuckled.

Jenny gave him a small smile through her lashes.

"Yes, I have heard of the fine woman causing you so much distress," he said.

"Fine is probably the least accurate description of that woman," Jenny grumbled. "Harridan is more fitting."

"Oh, Jennifer,"" Ducky admonished lightly. "Surely she can't be so bad."

Jenny gave him a look.

"Clearly you haven't had the displeasure of meeting her," she said with a tight, humorless smile.

"Not as such, no." Ducky admitted.

"Well, pray that you don't," was her quick response.

Jennifer Shepard was not a religious woman by any means; but she had been raised by a very strict Catholic of a woman and she felt that prayer was warranted in the imminent threat of Sister Adelaide.

"I will take that to heart," he indulged her before changing the subject. "Now, do tell me about that little secret of yours," he prompted.

"When will Sunny be back?" Jenny asked warily, looking toward the autopsy doors.

"Oh, not for some time," Ducky assured her, getting up to pour them both a cup of tea. "Ms. Harris seems to have become quite taken with our forensic scientist."

"With Hodges?!" Jenny laughed. "Maybe I don't like her so much as I thought." She was silent a moment. "She's nine," she finally divulged with a mother's smile.

"Lovely age," Ducky murmured; and Jenny snorted.

"Hardly," she laughed. "She's testing her boundaries," she said, clearly exhausted with Kelly's behavior.

"That is the age for it," Ducky agreed sympathetically.

Jenny could tell he was being polite and allowing her time to tell him just what the story was behind Kelly.

"It isn't just my story to tell, Ducky," she sighed in apology.

It was Jethro's place to tell Ducky about his first wife, not hers; and Jenny's very presence in Jethro and Kelly's life had everything to do with Shannon.

It was then that Sunny walked back in; and both Ducky and Jenny looked up. Clearly she was not so taken with Hodges as the doctor thought; and it was for the better that the conversation had not gone further.

"Ms. Harris, back so soon?" Ducky asked with the most indiscernible edge to his voice.

"Archie hadn't gotten to them. He was running the fingerprints on Agent Gibbs' case," Sunny revealed. "And he was in a jackass mood," she added.

"I should be going anyway. Gibbs'll have a coronary," Jenny announced before a look of confusion creased her brow. "Who the hell is _Archie_?" she demanded, not making the connection.

"Mr. Hodges," Ducky supplied; and realization dawned on the redhead's face before her face split in a grin and laughter erupted from her throat.

"His name is Archie?" Jenny giggled.

"Archibald," Sunny elaborated, clearly willing to cause the man as much humiliation as possible in her disgruntled state.

"Oh, thank you," Jenny laughed, pocketing that bit of information for the next time she saw the man.

"Happy to be of service," Sunny said with a mean little smirk; and Jenny grinned.

She definitely liked her.

"It was very nice to meet you Sunny," Jenny said, her amusement still gracing her features.

"Likewise," Sunny replied with a genuine smile of her own.

"Thank you for the tea, Ducky," Jenny said gratefully.

"Any time for you Jennifer," Ducky replied kindly; and Jenny smiled.

"Gibbs will have sent his little flying monkeys after me I'm sure," Jenny murmured; and rolled her eyes as she headed for the doors.

"I believe we have a body to attend to, Ms. Harris," Ducky spoke up as Jenny disappeared, leaving no more than the faintest hint of French perfume lingering in the air.

"That we do, Dr. Mallard," Sunny agreed, bouncing over to the body in question.

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When Jenny walked back into the bullpen the first thing she was met with was Stan grinning puckishly at her. That was never a good thing.

"What?" she snapped.

"You had braces?" he asked with laughter coloring his voice; and Jenny cut her eyes to Sister Adelaide with an annoyed glare.

Despite her protests, she had been forced to get them her senior year of high school after three years of putting it off.

"Yes, and you'll need them too among other corrective instruments when I'm done with you if you don't shut up about it," Jenny threatened, her fiery temper rearing its head.

Apparently the prospect of a red-faced Jennifer Shepard was worth the risk because Stan kept on.

"You ever get them stuck on anything?" he prodded knowingly; and Jenny groaned, whipping her head around to Sister Adelaide incredulously.

Jenny had in fact gotten them stuck before: in Tommy Roberts' lip ring. Sister Adelaide had caught them in the girls' bathroom when Jenny was sixteen. It had been a horrifying an absolutely humiliating experience. She had tried to forget about it herself, much more keep anyone else from finding out.

"Take my warning seriously, Burley," Jenny growled, but he merely continued to grin, indicating that he knew much, much more.

"I hate you," Jenny informed Sister Adelaide matter-of-factly, and the woman gave her a tight, but pleased smile.

"I'm well aware," the Sister replied. "The feeling is mutual, Ms. Shepard."

Jenny groaned in angry frustration and flung her head down onto her desk like a teenager, warranting raised eyebrows from all three men in her presence before they shook their heads. It was not uncommon to see theatrics from her from time to time.

After a moment her head shot up; and she popped out of her chair, grabbing her purse.

"I'm going to get coffee," she announced.

"Grab lunch," Gibbs called after her, and she stopped, spinning on her heel to face him with a raised brow.

"What am I, your personal whipping boy?" she demanded haughtily. "Well, girl," she amended.

"If you want," he quipped suggestively, though his face remained impassive, deciding that after this morning there wasn't much he could do to improve Sister Adelaide's impression of him.

Jenny gasped, scandalized before she caught her tongue between her teeth with a shocked laugh.

"Gibbs!" she scolded narrowing her eyes at him despite the laughter there. "Red light behavior!" she said, pointing a finger at him, but grinned as she turned on her heel, heading for the elevator once more.

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When Jenny returned she carried enough food to feed an army; but only one person sat in the bullpen.

"Where did they go?" she asked, setting the food on each person's respective desk.

"Perp left fingerprints on the lighter at the crime scene. Some dumb kid. Decker went to pick him up. Burley took the Sister back to the school. She's not in danger anymore," Gibbs said with nothing more than a brief glance in her direction and a nod of thanks when she set his food in front of him.

"Oh," Jenny murmured in mock disappointment. "I even brought her lunch," she said, holding up a small bag of dog food with a wicked grin.

"I am not amused, Ms. Shepard," Sister Adelaide's voice met Jenny's ears from behind her; and Jenny glared at Gibbs, who did nothing more than continue typing with a small smirk on his face.

Jenny shoved Gibbs in the shoulder boldly.

"That's not funny, Gibbs," she bit out through clenched teeth. "You arrogant bastard," she seethed.

"That's what the second 'B' is for," he shot back quickly but indifferently. "Go with Burley," he said, nodding in the younger man's direction. "Take her back to the school."

"They really found the guy?" Jenny asked, genuinely curious now.

"Eric White," Burley spoke up. "Kid's a sophomore. Apparently he's a trouble maker."

"I'm not surprised," Sister Adelaide spoke up. "He's a horrible child. He nearly collapsed in his fit after his last 'F'."

"So this has nothing to do with the Bauer case?" Jenny demanded with her hand on her hip in agitation. "We could have given her to the FBI?"

"Oh, what fun would that be, Ms. Shepard?" Sister Adelaide asked. "I never would have met that lovely little g-"

"Okay!" Jenny cut in loudly, earning her a funny look from Burley. She sent the Sister an imploring, desperate look; and Sister Adelaide raised a brow, but stopped talking nonetheless. "Can we go?" Jenny asked Burley a little breathlessly.

"Yeah, sure," he agreed, still eyeing her suspiciously.

Sister Adelaide walked ahead of them with Jenny taking up the rear. The redhead looked back at Gibbs in exasperation.

_This was getting ridiculous._

* * *

**_Whatcha thinkin' ?_ Tell me :) **

**Ooh and I'm doing a birthday shout out for my baby sister. She turns fifteen tomorrow. Yay :)**

**xoxo-Monkeys :]**


	10. Chapter 10

_A/n: Hello lovelies :) I won't say much, just that I hope you're having a good summer, that you enjoy the chapter; and look it! It's up in under a month! Oh, and read the author's note at the end. It's more than my nonsensical rambling for once. ;)_

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Jenny laid on the couch in Gibbs' living room with her hair tossed up into a bun and her glasses perched on the end of her nose. Kelly sat on the floor surrounded by, but carefully out of the way of her mother's stacks of papers and folders.

"Mom," Kelly called, looking up abruptly; and Jenny lifted her brows slightly, murmuring a distracted sound of acknowledgement though her eyes never left the paper she was reading. "Mommy," Kelly persisted more urgently; and Jenny murmured louder. "Mom!" Kelly sighed loudly, giving her mother's dangling a foot a gentle push.

Jenny sighed in exasperation and slapped the paper she was reading down onto her lap, giving Kelly her full albeit annoyed attention.

"What?" she demanded, taking her glasses off to look at the brunette.

Her head hurt; and she was overworked. Gibbs' team had the weekend off despite the fact that the Bauer case was looking more and more a cold case every day; but instead of spending time with her family she was catching up on back paperwork for her company. Kelly sitting in the same room with her was about as close to quality time as it got. In all fairness, she had expected Kelly to be with Joanne; but they had ended up moving plans to Saturday rather than Friday.

"Laura's mom wants to know what time to drop her off next Friday," Kelly said, capping her marker before grabbing a new one.

"What's next Friday?" Jenny asked absently, her eyes already returning to her paper even without her glasses.

"My sleepover," Kelly reminded her; and Jenny's eyes shot up. She froze, clearly having forgotten all about it. "You forgot," Kelly said matter-of-factly. "Mom!" she groaned. "Lauren, Maddie, Lilly, and Lizzie are supposed to spend the night and then you're taking me and Maddie to our recital."

"I remember," Jenny lied unconvincingly.

"No, you don't. You _forgot_!" Kelly insisted indignantly, glaring at her mother angrily.

"Hey!" Jenny scolded sharply at Kelly's belligerent tone before her voice softened. "So I forgot. Don't worry about it. You'll have your sleepover," she promised.

Kelly had been looking forward to it for weeks. It was the last time she and her friends would be able to spend real time together before school started again.

"You always forget about me now," Kelly said fiercely, meeting her mother's eyes with contempt. "You're never here."

Jenny paused in going back to her work, wrinkling her brow with surprised hurt and concern in her eyes.

"Hey," Jenny murmured softly, setting the folder aside and slid down off the couch to kneel next to Kelly who was chewing on the inside of her bottom lip dejectedly. "I don't forget about you," Jenny insisted earnestly, grabbing Kelly's face gently to look at her. "I know I'm not home as much as I used to be; but you like Noemi, right?" she asked hopefully.

"She's not my mom," Kelly replied simply, looking up at Jenny through her dark hair with her big, blue eyes; and Jenny's heart almost broke.

Jenny sighed, tucking an errant piece of hair behind Kelly's ear with a guilty look on her face.

"Just because I don't make it to everything and I forget some things doesn't mean I forget about you," Jenny tried to impress upon Kelly. "Have I ever broken a promise to you?" she asked. "Have I ever told you I would be somewhere and not shown up?"

"No," Kelly mumbled, finding the floor very interesting all of a sudden.

"No," Jenny agreed pointedly, tilting Kelly's chin up so that she was looking at her again. "You are at the top of every list. You're always number one. Don't ever think you aren't."

Kelly nodded silently with her eyes on the floor again. Jenny tilted her head down to try to meet Kelly's eyes.

"Okay?" Jenny prodded almost desperately.

"Yeah," Kelly said with a short-lived and unconvincing little smile before she moved to her feet, brushing the lint off of her black shorts. "I'm going to go help Daddy with the boat," she announced.

"Kelly," Jenny called her back, finding her voice strangled by distress and at a loss for words; and Kelly stopped, turning to face her mother's pained expression.

"I know, Mommy," Kelly said with one of her smiles, but it failed to reach her sad little eyes before she turned on her heel; and ran off to find her father.

Jenny caught the corner of her top lip between her teeth; and inhaled deeply as she fell back against the couch. She dropped her face into her hands with a heavy sigh before dragging her hands down to rest against her lips. She stared off into space, rubbing her fingers over her mouth absently, wondering when she had gotten so selfish and Kelly so forgiving.

It became very clear to her that she would have to make a choice soon: her father or her daughter. If Kelly felt that way when she was still just an agent, what would happen as she moved up the ranks and NCIS started sending her all over the world? It would be naïve and simple minded to think that every open position would allow her to remain in the states; and much as she hated to admit it, Kelly was used to her father not being around; but Jenny had always been there.

Kelly stood on a box thirty minutes later sanding the boat with her father behind her guiding her hand. She giggled as he murmured something into her ear in his gruff voice.

"You're silly, Daddy," she laughed.

Jethro laughed softly, looking up as Jenny made her way down the steps: silent without her trademark heels. He followed her with his gaze while Kelly rambled on about the latest in elementary school adventures until Jenny stopped at the foot of the stairs, leaning against the beam there with a bittersweet smile on her face.

Kelly stopped talking the moment she noticed her, eyeing her mother warily. Jenny walked across the basement and grabbed a sander from the workbench without a word; and Jethro stepped away from Kelly just as silently so that Jenny could take his place.

Kelly remained silent as Jenny wrapped her arms around her middle; and rested her chin on top of her head.

"You know I love you, right?" Jenny sighed; and she felt Kelly nod. "I'll do better okay?" she murmured. Another nod. "Still love me?" she asked; and Kelly laughed.

"Yes," the young girl giggled softly, leaning back into her mother's embrace; and Jenny smiled, looking over Kelly's head to meet Jethro's knowing gaze.

She mouthed a thank you as she ran a hand over Kelly's hair; and a lopsided smirk graced his face before he took a sip from the makeshift bourbon tumbler as Kelly picked up where she left off on her tale of snakes at recess.

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Jenny stood in Jethro's bedroom later that night dressed in a pair of Jethro's sweatpants that she had rolled over at the waist band about four times to fit her and a tank top she had left there the previous weekend. She had been spending more and more time there as of late; and now it was expected that either she would spend the weekend at his house or he at hers. She flipped her hair forward, twisting it loosely and secured it into a bun at the top of her head.

"I think I might cut my hair," she mused aloud, scrunching her nose in the mirror before releasing the bun anyway.

"Don't," he objected rather impassionedly; and Jenny snorted, turning to face him.

"I was not asking your permission," she informed him haughtily, tossing the topic of discussion over her shoulder and raking her fingers through the ends.

"Don't cut your hair, Jen," he said, but she merely smiled. The man had a thing for hair—long hair and long legs.

Kelly walked in at that moment dressed in her pajamas and braiding her own hair to one side.

"Can we watch a movie now?" she requested; and Jenny turned her around to usher her out of the room while she followed close behind with her hands on either side of Kelly's head.

"What are we watching?" Jenny asked as they made their way down the stairs.

"Roger Rabbit," Kelly decided, tilting her head back briefly to look at Jenny who smirked.

"Your father will like that one," she murmured, looking back over her shoulder at Jethro, thinking of Roger Rabbit's redheaded and ample-bodied wife.

"You look kind of like Jessica Rabbit," Jethro said a few minutes later as they sat on the couch while Kelly made popcorn.

Jenny snorted at the ludicrous statement; and chose to address it in the joking manner it was meant.

"I don't have her ass," she laughed as she moved to her feet.

"It's a good one though," he complimented her; and she turned to him with a half amused-half suspicious smile.

"What's gotten into you?" she demanded with a cautious smirk before she headed into the kitchen to see what was taking Kelly so long.

When she walked in she nearly had a heart attack at seeing Kelly balancing precariously on the edge of the sink with one foot up in the air, her balance aided only by the open cabinet she was holding onto.

Jenny was across the kitchen in an instant and grabbing her down.

"Mom!" Kelly protested.

"I would prefer if you didn't fall and bust your head open," Jenny shot back smartly.

"I was trying to get a bowl," Kelly explained, pointing to the large Tupperware container.

Kelly had inherited some unfortunate, throwback short stature. Despite both Shannon and Jethro's taller than average heights, Kelly looked more Jenny's daughter in that aspect.

"I'll get it," Jenny said, reaching for the container only to find that she too was too short to reach it. She didn't know why Jethro insisted on putting things out of reach of anyone but him.

Against her own advice, she moved to climb up onto the counter only to be stopped by Kelly's admonishing voice.

"You're going to bust your head open," she mocked; and Jenny glared.

Kelly shrunk back under her mother's glare; and grinned bashfully. It worked anyway. Jenny kept her feet on the ground. She tossed her head back and yelled instead.

"Jethro!"

Kelly jumped slightly. She had once heard her father remark that Jenny had the lung capacity for commanding an army; and in that instant she was inclined to agree.

Jethro appeared in the doorway with an lazy, expectant look. After nearly nine years, he knew that just because Jenny yelled, urgency was not necessarily constituted.

"I can't reach it," Jenny informed him pointing to the bowl, clearly annoyed at the fact; and he rolled his eyes, covering the distance between them in few strides. He reached up, and grabbed it before handing it to her with a slightly raised brow and an amused smirk. He was reminded of just how short she was with her standing in front of him with bare feet rather than her trademark sky-high pumps.

"Do you have to put everything six feet in the air?" she demanded, handing Kelly the bowl; and she leaped forward with a squeak when he goosed her in retaliation. Kelly looked up at Jenny in surprise; and Jenny assumed the look of a deer caught in headlights. Kelly brushed it off and opened the popcorn bag. She knew by now that her mother was less than normal.

Jenny whipped around to face Jethro with a glare.

"Do you have a sudden, insatiate interest in my rear end, Agent Gibbs?" she murmured lowly as Kelly walked past them, hugging the large bowl of popcorn to herself.

"Not sudden," he shot back, swiping a piece of popcorn out of the bowl; and Jenny scoffed at his behavior but grinned, shaking her head nonetheless.

Jenny yawned halfway through the movie, the combination of Jethro's absent-minded massaging of her scalp and the insane hours she had been keeping starting to take its toll.

"Mom, you can't go to sleep," Kelly protested, looking up at Jenny from where her head laid in her mother's lap.

Jenny and Jethro had somehow managed to gravitate closer to each other as the movie went on so that Jenny sat cuddled into his side with her head on his shoulder and him with his hand in her hair; and Kelly laid stretched out across their laps with the bowl of popcorn resting on her stomach.

"I'm not," Jenny assured her, though another yawn made her statement less than convincing. "I'm wide awake," she insisted with sleepy smile.

Jenny looked up, felling Jethro's gaze on her; and she smiled at him in silent indication that she was fine. She rested her head back on his shoulder, wondering briefly how a few nights of casual sex had led to her spending her weekends with him again; and now she was wearing his clothes and snuggling up to him on his couch. He was her boss now. The stakes were higher; and maybe it was the two glasses of wine she'd had talking but she also realized that frankly, she could care less. She burrowed deeper into his side; and he looked down only a moment as she resituated herself.

Kelly Gibbs was not stupid, nor was she was she as blind as her parents seemed to think she was. Clearly, they thought they were getting away with the looks and "secret" kisses. Currently they both had those weird looks on their faces; and Kelly decided to make her knowledge known once and for all.

"So do you guys love each other again yet?" she asked suddenly; and both Jenny and Gibbs looked at her abruptly.

"What?" Jenny demanded, being the first one to find her voice.

"You keep looking at Daddy funny," Kelly said like as much should be obvious—mostly because it was. "Elsie says that's how you look at somebody you love. Not love like you love me," she clarified. "Love, love," as if that created such a distinction.

"Um," Jenny hesitated, truly wide awake now. "Your Dad and I never stopped loving each other," she finally said with a question mark at the end of her statement, hoping to pacify Kelly despite her own uncertainty.

She was unsuccessful.

"That's just semantics," Kelly persisted, using Jenny's favorite word against her.

Jethro grinned; and Jenny's mouth dropped before she too smiled.

"Oh?" the redhead laughed, raising a brow inquisitively.

"Do you love Daddy like a puppy or do you love, love him like a husband?" Kelly asked.

"I love him like a mother loves her child's father," Jenny said evasively; and Kelly scrunched her nose at her in annoyance.

Jethro took it upon himself to put an end to their game and turned Jenny's head toward him, pressing his lips to hers. Jenny froze with a squeak of surprise for a moment before she relaxed and smiled into the kiss, eliciting a squeal of joy from Kelly. Both adults laughed as she shot upright, crawling into her father's lap.

"Close your eyes," Jethro instructed.

"I've seen you and mommy kiss before," Kelly retorted saucily.

"This is scary kissing," he said.

"Scarier than a _frog_?" Kelly asked.

Jethro murmured in agreement,reaching his arm around to place a hand over her eyes and Kelly giggled, trying to pull his hand down as Jenny slid her hand up behind his neck, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth.

"Jethro," she murmured, her tone an odd mixture of relieved revelation and admonishing warning.

The man had no concept of subtlety or discretion. Everything he did was like ripping the Band-Aid off. Now, there was no denying their relationship; but the thought quickly dawned on her that perhaps that was his intention.

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"Daddy!" Kelly called, running through the house the following morning. "Dad!" she yelled insistently. "_Dad!_"

"What?" he yelled back from what sounded like the basement-no surprise there.

"Stop yelling across the house!" Jenny shouted louder than either of them, coming down the stairs where she nearly ran into Kelly in the living room—or rather Kelly nearly ran into her. "What are you doing?" she demanded of the child.

"Do you know where my blue dress is?" Kelly asked, toying with the tie on her lavender robe, answering Jenny's question in a roundabout way.

"You have several blue dresses," Jenny pointed out, raising a brow; and Kelly sighed in exasperation.

"The one I really like," she stressed. "With the flowers on it. Daddy said he washed it; but I can't find it."

Jenny laughed.

"Oh, honey, your father doesn't wash clothes. Either I do it or he buys new ones," she quipped.

"Help me find it, please?" Kelly requested, baring her teeth as she drug out her 'e' and tugged Jenny's hand in her father's direction.

Jenny obliged and allowed Kelly to lead her toward the basement. She stopped at the top of stairs and yelled down them.

"Jethro, your daughter is missing a dress," she informed him.

"Told her it was in the wash," he called back.

"So she says. Since when do you wash clothes?" Jenny demanded, sighing at the realization that she would have to go downstairs.

She walked across the basement, coming to a stop in front of him with her hand propped on her hip and her head tilted to the side with a skeptical look on her face.

"Since you stopped," he shot back with a smirk; and she laughed sarcastically.

"Cute," she murmured, thinking just the opposite. "Fine," she acquiesced, turning to head back up the stairs. "It better be there, Gibbs," she warned, leaning over the banister before she disappeared from sight.

"Did you find it?" Kelly asked hopefully when Jenny found her in her bedroom, packing the rest of her things.

"I did," Jenny replied, revealing it from behind her back. "In the laundry room," she said pointedly over Kelly's delighted cheer.

Kelly smiled abashedly.

"Thank you," she said gratefully; and Jenny murmured in reluctant acknowledgement.

"Hurry up and get dressed," Jenny said, already heading for the door to give Kelly some privacy. "We don't want to keep your grandmother waiting," she reasoned before shutting the door behind her.

Jethro jogged up the steps ten minutes later, expecting Jenny and Kelly to already be gone; so imagine his surprise when Kelly's door flew open with a bang and the child in question stumbled out with her dress halfway over her head, her arms caught up in the fabric at an awkward angle so that she looked like something akin to a covered scarecrow.

"Mom! Help me!" she cried, clearly in some severe distress over her predicament. She was only slightly claustrophobic. "Mommy!" Kelly pleaded, getting more hysterical every second.

"Kelly," Jethro called gruffly, making himself known with the beginnings of an amused grin on his face.

"Daddy," Kelly gasped, spinning to face his voice. "I can't get this stupid dress on," she growled, her voice muffled by the fabric.

"Alright," he tried to calm her. "Stop moving. I'll get it on," he said, adopting the yanking approach.

"Ow!" Kelly whined.

"Sorry," he murmured, unable to stifle a laugh at her expense before trying to work the dress down in a gentler fashion; though it was to no avail, and Kelly merely cried out in pain again.

And this is what Jenny found when she climbed the stairs in search of Kelly not five minutes later, wondering what was taking so long.

"Kelly, what—?"

Jenny broke off at the sight that met her and pressed her lips together, narrowing her eyes in half confusion-half disbelief before she giggled.

"Help me," Kelly called in her muffled voice which only made Jenny laugh harder.

"Mom!" Kelly huffed, more annoyed than distressed at this point.

"Okay," Jenny laughed, resting reassuring hands on Kelly's shoulders. "Stand still," she instructed.

"Get it off," Kelly demanded, breathing heavily. She was hot; and it was getting hard to breathe. "Mom, I can't breathe," she gasped, starting to struggle against the dress again.

"Kelly!" Jenny cut in sharply, squatting in front of her; and the brunette finally stood still. "Calm down," her mother laughed softly. "Just stand still, I'll fix it."

Within a minute or two, Jenny had maneuvered the dress over Kelly's head; and the child was looking at her tickled expression. Jenny bit her lip sympathetically at Kelly's now harried expression. Her face was all flushed pink, she had a rather disgruntled look on her face, and strands of her dark hair were down falling all over her face.

Kelly pushed the hair back with a huff, allowing her hands to smack down at her sides.

"Better?" Jenny murmured despite the quivering at the corners of her lips.

"Yes," Kelly sighed heavily. "Can you fix my hair?" she asked, still frowning; and Jenny nodded with a grin.

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Jenny pulled up to Joanne's dirt driveway an hour later; and miraculously only ten minutes late. Shannon's mother owned a nice sized lot of land in Fairfax, and she kept a few horses. Jenny smiled at the older woman through her sunglasses as Joanne raised a hand into the air from where she stood on her front porch. Jenny raised a hand in a small wave; and Kelly much more enthusiastically, stuck her head out of the window.

"Hi, grandma!" she called, waving madly; and Jenny saw Joanne laugh.

"Kelly, get your head back in the car," Jenny scolded though she laughed nonetheless.

She shook her head when Kelly all but launched herself out of the car the moment Jenny turned the car off.

"Grandma, it worked!" Kelly shouted, running up the dirt pathway. "Daddy kissed my mom."

Joanne looked up with her arms around Kelly as Jenny came up the walkway carrying Kelly's bag.

"Joanne," Jenny greeted her with a suspicious smile and a cocked brow at Kelly's exclamation. She pushed her shades back on her head; and handed Kelly her bag.

"How are you, Jenny?" Joanne replied warmly.

"Fine," Jenny said slowly. "Do I even want to know what that was about?" she asked; and Joanne merely cracked a secretive smile. "Six tomorrow?" Jenny asked, reaffirming the plans they had made.

"Six," Joanne agreed; and Jenny smiled before turning to Kelly. She bent over to pull her into her arms despite Kelly's eagerness to get to her horse.

"Bye, have fun," Jenny said as Kelly wiggled out of her embrace taking off around the house. "Be good!" Jenny yelled after her.

"Love you," Kelly called back hurriedly in farewell; and Jenny turned to Joanne with a good natured roll of her eyes as Kelly disappeared from sight.

Joanne reached down to grab Kelly's bag, but Jenny stopped her.

"I'll take it," she insisted; and later she wished she had just gone on her way.

The pink bag was far from heavy, and maybe it was some irrational need to prove her maternal competency to Joanne still buried deep in her psyche; but Jenny felt she ought to take it nonetheless.

Joanne directed her to a pink-painted room full of flowers and Paris. Jenny smiled as she looked around. Try as Jenny had to deter her, Kelly Gibbs _loved_ pink; and it showed in the room. The decal of Audrey Hepburn by the bed made Jenny pause, and she turned to Joanne, pointing to it in question.

"She woke up one weekend when I was watching a movie," Joanne replied; and Jenny nodded.

She ran her fingers along the edge of the pink and white striped bedding; and her eyes skimmed briefly over the dark pink silhouette of the Paris skyline visible behind the white headboard before her eyes came to rest on a pale pink, silk throw pillow.

"_La Princesse_," Jenny murmured with a perfect French accent and a small smile. She set the pillow back on the bed; and turned to Joanne. "It's beautiful, Joanne," she said sincerely.

Looking around at the room that was just _Kelly_, it brought Jenny comfort that her daughter would never need for a place to go under any circumstance. She could always feel at home. She already had three bedrooms personalized to her tastes.

"She picked most of it out," Joanne said, looking around the room with a smile of her own. "It used to be the guest room, so most of the furniture was already here; but that's about it."

"Where did she get the Paris thing?" Jenny asked, thinking briefly that it was something she should know.

"Gay Puree," Joanne laughed. "At least I think so."

Jenny grinned.

"I remember that movie," she mused, and her face fell slightly at remembering the memory to be with her father. "I guess I should get going," she announced; and Joanne was pulled from her reverie.

"I'll walk you out," Joanne offered.

As they reached the foot of the stairs, Kelly came wandering in through the back door; and she cocked her head to the side in brief confusion at seeing Jenny still there.

"Are you staying, Mom?" Kelly asked; and Jenny's gaze darted to Joanne and back to Kelly.

Jenny shook her head.

"No, honey, I—"

"You're welcome to," Joanne interjected; and Jenny turned back to meet her indifferent gaze.

"I'm not really dressed, am I?" Jenny asked, looking down at her nude-colored heels and white—everything else.

"Stay, Mommy, please," Kelly requested, grabbing Jenny's hand; and Jenny groaned softly. She hesitated a moment more before finally conceding.

"Alright," she sighed resignedly with a small smile; and Kelly grinned.

"You can ride horses," Kelly said cheerfully, already tugging Jenny toward the back where Joanne kept the horses.

Jenny grimaced. It had been years since she had last been on a horse, and her last experience had not been a pleasant one.

"I haven't been on a horse in years," she objected, voicing as much.

"You can ride Nuts, he's nice. He'll let anybody ride him." Kelly waved her off as they started across the field; and Jenny snorted.

"Nuts?"

"Yeah, I was eating peanuts and he ate them right out of my hand even though they're not supposed to, but he was fine; so I called him Nuts," Kelly explained rather quickly so that her sentence sounded more like some variation of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. "That, and Grandma says his coat is Chestnut."

Jenny blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what she had just heard. The only thing she had understood was the last sentence.

"Okay," she laughed finally, still not entirely sure she got it right.

Jenny looked up as they came upon an open, green shed encasing the horse stalls. Kelly grabbed the horse feed from its place by the door; and held it out for Jenny to take before she pulled out a stepping stool that had been tucked away. Jenny followed her to the first stall which held a pretty, black horse.

"This is Adie," Kelly said, setting the stool in front of the horse's gate, very much in her element; and took the feed from Jenny. "She's grandma's new horse," Kelly murmured, petting the horse's nose.

"Is she friendly?" Jenny asked, smiling at Kelly's uncanny ability with animals. Kelly had informed both Jenny and Jethro on several occasions that she was going to be a veterinarian; and it became clearer every day that it was a perfect fit.

She had spent her entire life around horses. According to Jethro, Shannon loved them and had competed when she was young. She had wanted Kelly to love them—Jenny even remembered Kelly's nursery being horse themed, and Jethro had been adamant about fulfilling her wish. Kelly had also always been the child to bring home stray cats and dogs with the intention of giving them a home. It had taken quite some time to get her to understand that their home was not hers.

"She's friendly," Kelly said, looking up at Jenny. "She doesn't like strangers though."

"Well, I won't try to touch her then," Jenny said, taking a step back from the horse.

"She won't hurt you, or anything," Kelly assured her, furrowing her brows in concern at Jenny's behavior.

"I'm sure that's true," Jenny said, eyeing the horse warily nonetheless. "I think I'll keep my distance just to be safe though."

"You can pet Peg though," Kelly said, her eyes lighting up at the thought of her horse. "Peg likes you."

"I know," Jenny murmured, moving down to the next stable over to stroke the white horse's nose; and she smiled when she leaned into her. "Hey, Peg," she laughed.

Both Jenny and Jethro had objected to such an extravagant gift when Joanne had first presented Kelly with the White Mustang; but it soon became clear that the two would become an inseparable pair. Jenny had made the comment that the horse was Kelly's Pegasus. The name had stuck; but since it was a female horse they nicknamed her Peggy. That had since been shortened to Peg.

Jenny saw Kelly hop off of the stool and set the feed down out of the corner of her eye.

"This one is Nuts," Kelly said, running past Jenny who stroked Peg's nose one last time before she followed her.

"That sounds nice," Jenny murmured under her breath sarcastically.

Kelly failed to hear her or she pretended not to.

"Go ahead, pet him," she prompted; and Jenny eyed Kelly skeptically before reaching out hesitantly and rested her hand on the horse's nose. She relaxed a bit when he didn't rear back and kick her in the face. That was about what she was expecting.

"You're not so bad," Jenny murmured; and the horse merely continued to stare at her with an indifferent stare that reminded Jenny quite a lot of Gibbs 'I don't care' glare.

Jenny and Kelly looked up at the sound of voices and footfalls on the grass. Joanne rounded the corner with what looked like several pairs of riding boots. What made her pause though, was the man at her side.

"Jethro?" Jenny asked in confusion, raising a brow expectantly. "What are you doing here?"

"We've got a case," he said. "Caught Joanne on the way over here. Rule number three," he reminded her with sharp glare.

"What do you mean we have a case?" Jenny demanded, digging into her pocket for her phone. It should have rung. "We're not catching this weekend."

"Director wants all hands on deck. It's some politician's kid," he said, clearly displeased with the unnecessary amount of man power being used.

"It's dead," Jenny said, holding the phone up.

She sighed finally, allowing her hand to drop; and headed toward him like a disgruntled child. The actual child in the group stormed past her angrily; and all but ran from the stables without a word.

Jenny watched her go, tugging her lip between her teeth and wrinkled her brow with guilt before a small smile graced her face. It was gone as fast as it was there; and Jenny turned to Jethro with a serious look on her face despite the barest hint of amusement in her eyes.

"I'm sick," she said, feigning a hoarse and plugged up voice. She gave a little fake cough and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Jen," he drawled in objection.

She coughed louder and more pointedly, narrowing her eyes at him. "You caught it from me. You'll be in bed for days."

She hoped Joanne missed her innuendo; but that Jethro would see it and take it as the bribe that it was.

"Days?" he asked blithely with raised brows; and she grinned before assuming a stoic expression. She nodded vigorously with a murmur of agreement that turned into a muffled giggle. "You told me not to give you any special treatment," he reminded her.

"It's not special treatment," she fired back. "If Stan Burley was the mother of your child,"—he grimaced in pain at that thought—"and him being pulled away to work was upsetting her, would you make him come in? Think of her _happiness_, Jethro," she goaded dramatically, only half joking.

Jethro knew the situation with Kelly. He had been the one to try to convince her that Jenny was trying her best. He rubbed the back of his neck; and sighed heavily.

"Two hours, Jen," he said. For him to allow her anymore would be suspicious and blatant favoritism. Two hours he could pass off as not being able to reach her.

Jenny nodded resignedly, wishing that she had decided to decline Joanne's invitation anyway. Nothing good ever came out of Jenny Shepard and horses. Kelly never would have missed her.

"You're not so sick," she shot back. "You're not even coughing. I think maybe you'll be out of bed in a few hours."

Jethro chuckled.

"Two hours, Jen," he said; and she cupped his face in her hand, brushing her lips against his cheek in thanks as she walked past him.

Jethro turned to see Joanne looking at him with an eyebrow raised slightly, silently judging.

"What?" Jethro demanded defensively.

"Treat her right this time," was all Joanne said before she too walked out of the stable.

Joanne had gained a newfound respect for Jenny Shepard when she realized all the young redhead had been through. By twenty-eight she had managed to save a man from the depression of a dead wife, become a mother to another woman's child, lost her own father, and weathered the storm of an abusive relationship. Now, she balanced two jobs and a broken family. She was no feeble soul, and ironically enough Joanne thought she might have more respect for her at the fact that she seemed to have taken Jethro back; and it might even be said that Joanne had grown to like her.

Jenny found Kelly in the house, grabbing her helmet: a light pink thing that fit her perfectly.

"Kelly," Jenny murmured.

"I know," Kelly shot back sharply, gathering her long hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck.

Jenny raised a brow; taken aback at her tone.

"Do you?" she demanded skeptically, crossing her arms over her chest.

Kelly spun to face her with her pink lips pursed into an angry frown.

"You're have to go to work," Kelly said, stepping into her riding boots. "And you're really sorry," she continued harshly, mimicking the excuses she had heard time and time again. "But you never promised anything." She stood to her full height: all four feet and eleven inches of it, lifting her pert little nose up into the air. "_I know_." She was silent a moment._ "_It's fine," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, indicating that it was far from it; and she stood there waiting for the customary apologetic hug, but it never came.

"I'm not going to work," Jenny said, eyeing Kelly pointedly; and Kelly looked up slowly. A myriad of expressions flashed across her face in the span of about ten seconds: confusion, hope, and then abashed happiness."

"You're not?" she asked, and confusion took the forefront once again. "But Daddy said you had a case. It's important."

"It can wait," Jenny said simply; and Kelly grinned, thinking that maybe she might be getting her mother back.

Kelly Gibbs had never been under the jaded impression that the entire world revolved around her. Her parents had made sure of that; and even if they had spoiled her to death she probably would have turned out more or less the same down-to-earth girl that she was. Those facts aside, she had never felt unloved or neglected: Jenny and Jethro had also made sure of _that_. In the past few months though, as Jenny spent more and more time at NCIS, Kelly had begun to feel like her mother was changing: as if Jenny were moving on with her new job and her new friends and leaving her behind.

"Really?" Kelly asked hesitantly.

"Do I often say things that I don't mean?" Jenny asked rhetorically; and Kelly shook her head.

She lunged forward to embrace her mother in a brief hug.

"Thanks, Mom," she said before releasing the redhead; and took off toward the stables, leaving Jenny with a semi-stunned look on her face.

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Jenny and Kelly met Joanne at the stable as she was saddling the horses. Joanne looked up with a smile, squinting into the sun and brushed her hair out of her face as the wind picked up. She moved around her horse, Adie and grabbed a pair of riding boots off of the ground. She held them out to Jenny.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to change into," she murmured, eyeing Jenny's white shirt and white pants. She assumed the redhead had left her blush jacket inside the house. Joanne looked down at Jenny's bare feet and red toes with a smirk. She suspected that the heels were with the jacket. "You'll want the shoes though," she said with a grin as she turned back to tighten her horse's saddle. "They should fit."

"Thanks," Jenny laughed gratefully, taking the shoes.

"Have you ever been on a horse?" Joanne asked, and Jenny looked up from where she knelt on the ground, her red hair whipping around her face.

"High school," Jenny answered. "Last time I was on one was the end of my junior year of college. It's been about ten years."

"God, you're young," Joanne murmured, never having had the guile to ask Jenny's actual age.

"Younger," Jenny said with a grin as she moved to her feet, brushing her pants off. She already knew it was inevitable they would get dirty. "I started college as a sophomore. I was seventeen."

"Well isn't that nice?" Joanne mused with a smirk and a hint of teasing sarcasm. "I'd take a helmet if I were you," she said, tossing Jenny a black one. "Nuts won't go any faster than a trot on his best day though, but we won't be going all that fast anyway. Kelly likes to take off sometimes, however."

"I'm sure," Jenny murmured, turning around to look at the child in question who grinned. She turned back to Joanne and waved the helmet off. "It's probably too small. I'll be fine."

"I don't need a helmet, but Grandma makes me wear one," Kelly grumbled; and Jenny smirked.

"Good," she said; and Kelly pulled a face. Jenny turned to Joanne. "Jethro lets her ride all over the place without anything."

"Mommy, you worry too much," Kelly sighed, tightening her helmet on her head.

"It's what mother's do," Joanne said with a smile. "I used to worry about your m—" She stopped and her face fell. She inhaled deeply through her nose. "I used to worry about my daughter the same way," she murmured softly.

"Daddy says her name was Shannon," Kelly asked quietly. She was old enough by now to understand the circumstances that surrounded her biological mother's death and what it did to her grandmother. She had the understanding to realize that a certain amount of discretion was needed when speaking of her.

"It was," Joanne murmured with a watery smile. "After my mother," she said, and turned away to swipe the few tears that had sprung to her eyes.

Joanne always got emotional when it came to Shannon for the simple fact that she had seen neither head nor tail from her daughter for two years before her death. Shannon had married Jethro; and Joanne's objections to the union had caused a rift. They had grown so far apart by the time she got pregnant that Joanne hadn't even known about Kelly until Jethro had called to tell her about Shannon.

"Do I look like her?" Kelly asked hesitantly, leaning against Jenny; and Jenny looked down in surprise. Kelly hardly ever asked about Shannon. She never knew her. She didn't even remember the idea of her. "Daddy says that too sometimes."

Kelly often wished that she looked like Jenny, but she would never dare voice that wish. Even _she_ knew that it would crush her father and grandmother.

"Spitting image," Joanne said and gathered herself, pulling as much of her medium length bob back into a clip as she could. She was. She had her father's eyes and his tan skin; but other than that she looked just like Shannon—aside from the hair color. She even had her smile.

"Do you have a hair tie for your mother?" she asked. She looked up at Jenny who was eyeing her in sympathy. "You'll need one. The wind will have your hair all over your face."

Kelly pulled a black one off of her wrist and held it out to Jenny who took it with a soft thank you and another worried look in Joanne's direction; but the older woman seemed to be fine, _seemed_ being the operative word. Joanne had quickly grown adept at seeming okay whenever Shannon was mentioned.

At first she would become near hysterical, and it scared Kelly; so Jenny had warned her that she would have to learn to cope if she wanted to be around her granddaughter. Jenny understood her emotions and when she looked back she thought it might have been harsh; but Kelly had to come first.

"Ready?" Joanne asked, looking between the two of them briefly. Kelly nodded; and grabbed her stool so that she could hoist herself up onto her white horse. "You remember how to get on a horse?" Joanne asked Jenny; and waited for her nod before mimicking Kelly's actions she thumped her legs against the horse to get him moving.

Kelly and Jenny did the same to their horses, though Jenny had to try a second and third time.

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The smell of green grass on the miraculously green pasture filled the air, the sun shined bright, and the tree leaves danced with the force of the strong wind.

"She's a natural at it," Joanne murmured with Jenny at her side, both of their horses walking leisurely while Kelly pulled ahead.

"Yeah," Jenny murmured in agreement with a proud smile. "She is."

Kelly was one of those children who excelled at most anything they did.

"I see Shannon in her so much," Joanne murmured wistfully as they watched the brunette handling her horse with ease.

"Jethro says the same thing," Jenny replied, wishing she might have met the woman if only for the fact that she might place some of Kelly's personality that was neither her nor Jethro.

She was the perfect example of nurture and nature. Jenny's influence was clear in her periodic feisty outbursts and the way she handled conflict with other children; but her overall gentle and carefree nature had to be Shannon.

"You remembered quickly," Joanne praised, noting Jenny's straight posture on the horse.

Jenny was robbed of a chance to answer as both women looked up at Kelly circling back to them at a gallop.

"Why are you riding so slow?" the child demanded.

"Why are you riding so fast?" Jenny retorted; and Kelly grinned, showing off the gap in her smile on the left side of her mouth.

"Because it's fun," Kelly shot back, relishing in the wind catching her hair and the feeling she always got whenever she was sitting atop a horse. "Ride with me," she requested, directing it at her grandmother for she knew full well that Jenny would not.

"You'd leave your mother?" Joanne asked; and Kelly tilted her head to the side to look at Jenny.

"No," she sighed resignedly with a small pout on her lips.

"Go on," Jenny laughed, giving her blessing. "I'll stay back here."

"Really?" Kelly asked, her eyes lighting up at being able to show Jenny what she could really do. "We'll be right back."

"Really," Jenny assured her.

"Watch me?" Kelly asked; and Jenny nodded with a smile, holding her horse steady.

Kelly grinned and made a kissing noise at the horse and then a gave it a gentle squeeze to get it going; and Jenny watched as she gradually picked up speed, her laughter trailing behind her before Joanne set off after her.

Kelly had made it maybe one hundred feet when Jenny looked around, unsettled when Nuts gave a frightened neigh; and she gasped in fear at the feeling of tipping backwards as her horse reared. Despite a decent amount of skill when she was finally on the horse, Jenny had never really learned how to calm a frightened one; and it was the reason she had taken her fair share of falls. She let out a squeak when he bolted.

"Grandma," Kelly laughed breathlessly, her veins rushing with adrenaline, bringing her horse to a stop as Joanne caught up to her. Joanne smiled; but her face quickly turned stricken when she looked back for Jenny and saw Nuts coming toward them at an uncontrolled gallop despite Jenny's attempts to reign him in, clearly seriously spooked by something.

The horse sped past them at a speed Joanne had _never_ seen him achieve. She was the first to react, sending her horse off at a gallop after Nuts.

Jenny's heavy breathing and pounding heartbeat echoed in her ears as she tried her best to hold onto the animal.

"Stupid horse," she muttered, fearing for her life. _Damn, she really hated horses._

Nuts bucked; and Jenny screamed. She flew through the air a good ten or fifteen feet before she hit the ground with a roll and slid another five before coming to a rest in a motionless heap on the grass, silent.

Kelly's piercing, terrified scream cut through the white noise of the fields.

"_Mom!"_

Joanne hopped off of her horse; and ran toward Jenny on foot with Kelly not far behind.

"Mom!" Kelly yelled, yanking her helmet off; and came to a breathless stop beside Jenny's lifeless form. "_Mom!_" she cried out; and Joanne looked up at her with a determined set to her jaw.

"Kelly, go inside. Call 9-1-1," she instructed as calmly as possible. From the looks of it, Jenny had hit her head on a rock.

"Mom," Kelly whispered.

"Kelly!" Joanne said sharply, scared to death herself. Jenny had a pulse but she was out cold and hadn't moved a muscle. "Get on Peg and go call! _Now!"_

Kelly whimpered, but ran off to do as she was told.

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When Gibbs stepped off of the elevator into the bullpen about forty-five minutes after he had left Joanne's, Stan shot out of his chair; and the worried look on his face caused Gibbs to pause before he continued toward his desk.

"Where the hell is Decker?" Gibbs demanded. "Do all of my agents think it's a drill when I say get your asses down here?"

"Boss, it's Shepard," Stan said, following Gibbs with his gaze; and Gibbs head shot up as he narrowed his eyes.

"You heard from her?" he asked, tossing his gun and badge into his drawer. "Tell her when she gets here her ass—"

Stan cut him off.

"Boss, some lady named Joanne called. Said Jenny took a nasty fall off of her horse; and to tell you to get over there when you came in. Decker went to check on her 'bout half an hour ago."

Gibbs looked down at the phone in his hand, wondering why Joanne had thought it better to call him at work.

"Damn pieces of crap," he muttered harshly, throwing the thing onto his desk at seeing that his too had died on the drive over. "Where is she?" Gibbs asked, snatching his drawer open to grab his badge and gun back into his hands.

He tried to keep any emotions out of his voice; but the nagging at the back of his mind that had him expecting the worst shone through in his expression.

"Inova, in Fairfax," Stan replied and Gibbs' jaw jumped. If Jenny had allowed herself to be taken to a hospital then she was either in a hell of a shape or she hadn't been lucid enough to have had a say in it.

And yet, Stan Burley made not one joke or quip or comment about Jenny and Gibbs and their supposed affair. He was worried. Anyone knew that a fall off of a horse could go either way.

"Stay here," Gibbs said. "Tell the Director where we went if he comes down asking for one of us."

"Yeah, okay, boss," Stan agreed; and Gibbs set off for the elevators. "Hey, boss!" he called out just as the elevator doors opened with a ding and Gibbs stepped on.

Gibbs held a hand out to stop the doors; and stuck his head out.

"What?" he barked impatiently.

"Call and let me know if she's okay?" Burley requested; and Gibbs' expression softened—though it was still a far cry from being _soft_.

"Yeah, Burley," he agreed gruffly before he stepped back into the elevator and the doors closed behind him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Gibbs strode into the E.R. waiting room of the Inova Fairfax Hospital William Decker rose to meet him.

"How's she doing?" Gibbs asked; and Decker ran a hand back through his dark hair with a harried sigh, shoving the other into his pocket out of nervous habit.

"I don't know," he sighed. "I've only been here about twenty minutes. They're not telling me anything."

Both men looked up at the cry of a child.

"Daddy!" Kelly called over the low hum of the busy emergency room, running to him with tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes, still wearing her riding gear.

Will watched in shock as his boss bent down to take the small, blue-eyed brunette who was obviously his daughter_. _

_Since when did Gibbs have a kid? And why the hell didn't he look more surprised to see her running out of the emergency room? She couldn't have been more than eight._

He watched as Gibbs acknowledged an older woman with blonde hair by the name Joanne. _Joanne: why did that sound so familiar?_ Will watched as Gibbs walked over to the help desk with the still teary little girl in his arms. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Gibbs had a kid.

_Wasn't that something you told people you worked with?_

Will shook himself and followed Gibbs to the desk.

"I'm her next of kin," heard Gibbs say—or growl rather.

The receptionist: a very pretty blonde that Will had already tried charming, told Gibbs to have a seat; and she would get back to him.

"Daddy," Kelly whispered, taking her face out of his neck with a sniff. "Mom'll be okay, right?"

"Your mom is here too?" Decker asked her; and Kelly blinked at him a few times in surprise as if just noticing he was there before she turned back to her father for reassurance without a word.

"She'll be fine, Kel," Gibbs murmured, rubbing her back comfortingly; and sent a warning glare Decker's way.

"I thought Nuts would be okay," Kelly insisted, her voice breaking. "He never spooks."

"It's not your fault," Gibbs said. "Horses spook sometimes."

It dawned on Will why he knew the name Joanne; and it was then that Will made the connection; and he looked at Gibbs incredulously.

"Holy shit," he whispered in bewilderment, pushing a hand back through his hair. "_Jenny_? Jenny's her mom? Jenny is _your _kid's mom?" he demanded, his elevating voice drawing stares. "_Holy shit._"

"Who are you?" Kelly asked softly, sniffing again; and Will was snapped out of what could have easily turned into a manic rage. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly; and tried for a friendly smile.

"I'm uh, I'm Will," he introduced himself. "I work with J—" He stopped. "Your, uh, your mom," he amended hoarsely, the word sounding foreign on his lips when referencing Jenny. "I work with your mom."

"I'm Kelly," Kelly replied politely. "My mom fell off of a horse," she whispered, and tears sprung to her eyes once more as she pressed her quivering lips together. "She's not waking up."

"Yeah," Will said. "Yeah, I know; but she'll be okay," he assured her. "Jenny's not one to let anything keep her down." He said it as much for his reassurance as for Kelly's.

Kelly buried her face in her father's neck again; and Will was unsure if he had done more harm than good.

That was pushed to the back of everyone's minds when the blonde receptionist spoke up.

"Mr. Gibbs?" she called; and Gibbs looked up to meet her gaze with a menacing one of his own. The woman dressed in floral scrubs looked taken aback; but she squared her shoulders. "You can see your wife now."

Gibbs didn't bother to correct her; and Will was unsure if that was just a slip or if Gibbs had just decided to stop blatantly falsifying facts. Regardless the young NCIS agent was sure he would need a strong drink after today.

The receptionist pressed the button to open the doors and allow them into the back: Gibbs went first with his daughter in his arms, the blonde woman followed behind him, and Will behind her with a dumb expression on his face.

They walked down the hall a ways until Joanne found Jenny's room; and Will mumbled something about coffee before Joanne pulled the curtain back to reveal the redhead finally coming to with a pained expression. Jenny held a hand to her head and winced.

"Christ," she muttered, not expecting to see the bulk of her family standing in front of her. "What happened?" she moaned, cursing the pain splitting her skull.

"Get the doctor," Joanne murmured to Jethro, taking Kelly from him before turning to Jenny. "The horse spooked and took off. You were thrown a good twenty feet," Joanne answered, her R.N training compelling her to watch Jenny for signs of everything and anything. "You were unconscious almost the whole ride over. You've been in and out of it the past forty-five minutes or so."

"I thought that horse didn't spook," Jenny muttered, wincing as she sat up in bed. Her whole body ached, she was nauseous, and she really just wanted everyone to shut the hell up. She should have known. _God, she hated horses_. Despite her background with them she had never had Kelly's natural talent nor Joanne's patience. Horses were not particularly fond of Jenny or vice-versa.

"He doesn't usually," Joanne said, catching the corner of her lips between her teeth in thought and concern for Jenny, who though she seemed to be fine sans quite a bit of pain could have anything as lucky as a bad concussion to brain damage. "He's lazy too. I've never seen him move any faster than a canter. It must have been something awful to spook him that bad."

"It was a fart," Jenny said, glaring up at Joanne through her lashes as the event started coming back to her. "He farted and bucked. Your horse is lacking in the intelligence department."

Something had made the horse rear back initially; and apparently it scared him shitless because he farted the moment his feet were back on the ground; and he had taken off. Another fart had sent him bucking and Jenny flying.

Joanne furrowed her brow in confusion for a moment before a slow grin split her face; and a laugh escaped her lips. Her laughter grew until it filled the room.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, holding a hand to her lips. It wasn't funny, Jenny could have been seriously hurt—but it was.

"I'm renaming your horse Whit," Jenny said with disdain for the animal, rolling her eyes. "It'll be short for Witless."

That only caused Joanne to laugh harder as Jethro walked in with the doctor. The former Marine looked at her like she was insane. What she had found to laugh about in this situation in the five minutes since he had left escaped him.

"You called him, Joanne?" Jenny demanded, looking at the blonde in contemptuous disbelief; and Joanne sobered immediately, eyeing Jenny with reproach. "I'm fine," Jenny told Jethro, knowing full well that he was beside himself with worry. It was one of the things she both loved and hated about him. There was no doubt it should have been his picture in the dictionary next to _overprotective _and_ overbearing_.

"She was half unconscious the whole way over here," Joanne put in, raising a brow at Jenny who continued glaring.

Jethro reached out for Jenny's face, tilting it toward him to better see the grass burn and stitched up gash marring the left side of her face and his only discernible reaction was the tightening of his jaw before he let the doctor in to examine her.

"I'm Doctor Pitt," the very attractive doctor introduced himself; and Jenny couldn't help but note that he had a strong likeness to _Brad_ Pitt from Thelma & Louise.

"You're not related to Brad Pitt are you?" she laughed, voicing her thoughts as he checked her pupil dilation.

"I _am_ Brad Pitt," he replied; and Jenny pulled back, eying him skeptically. He might have a strong likeness to Brad Pitt; but he was certainly not him; and Jenny had no plans of letting any quack act as her physician.

The Doctor laughed, clearly reading her mind.

"Don't worry," he said. "I don't think I'm the actor. My name is Brad Pitt though."

"You're joking," she murmured with a raised brow, actually starting to believe him; and amusement meshed with skepticism graced her face in the form of a smile.

"Afraid not," he replied with a dazzling smile of his own; and Jenny laughed at his expense.

"That's awful," she murmured, with a slight wince. Even laughing made her head hurt.

"My patients get a kick out of it," he replied, standing to his full height; and marked on her chart before pocketing his pen. "Headache?" he asked, noting her actions.

"A little," she admitted.

"That means yes," Jethro said, earning him a withering look from Jenny. He knew because he would have outright denied it; and she was only about one step less stubborn than him.

"It means exactly what I said," she shot back snippily.

The doctor chuckled; and his eyes landed on the scared looking child in front of the blonde woman he assumed to be her grandmother.

"You're mom's going to be fine," he assured her with a friendly smile; and Kelly nodded.

"You're a lucky woman, Ms. Shepard," he murmured. "It doesn't look like anything more than a decent concussion, good considering. No signs of brain damage, but I'm going to order an MRI anyway. And you weren't wearing a helmet?" he asked, both concerned and a little interested.

"No," Jenny replied; and Jethro spoke up from his place at the foot of her bed.

"What the hell do you mean you weren't wearing a helmet?" he demanded. He never wore one; and he often let Kelly ride without one, but then that was when they were riding Western style and he knew how to handle the horse. He knew for a fact Jenny hadn't set foot near a horse in over ten years—not with the intention of riding it anyway.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I have an abnormally large head," she bit back. "The helmet was too small, so I didn't worry about it."

"You damn well should have, Jen," he snapped harshly; and Jenny's eyes turned hard. She knew him; and she knew that for him worry manifested itself into anger. The angrier he seemed, the more worried he was.

That did nothing to change the fact that she naturally rose on the defensive regardless of the reason for his anger. She turned to the doctor.

"Can I kick him out?" she asked, only half joking. "That vein in his neck looks like it's about to burst. I don't want him to have a heart attack or anything. He's getting to _that age,_" she said, raising a brow at Jethro with a glare.

The doctor smiled a little awkwardly.

"I'm going to get you in for an MRI," he said.

"Then I can go home?" Jenny inquired. She really hated hospitals. "And you aren't going to stick me with anything, right?" She hated needles more.

Doctor Brad Pitt chuckled.

"We'll see what your results say; but no, I don't think we'll have to stick you with anything."

The moment the doctor ducked out, pulling the curtain behind him Kelly ran across the room and climbed into Jenny's bed.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," she apologized, rolling her lips inward to press them together with a guilty look on her face.

"For what?" Jenny asked, genuinely confused as she brushed lingering tears from Kelly's face.

"I told you Nuts was okay," Kelly murmured in explanation, meeting Jenny's eyes with an expression that told her that much should be obvious.

"Kelly, it was a freak accident," Jenny sighed, hugging the girl to her side in a one-armed hug. "It was hardly your fault."

The curtain opened again; and everyone looked up expecting to see the doctor only to see Will Decker standing there instead with a cup of coffee in hand.

Jenny's face turned stricken with mild shock and anxiety.

"What are you doing here, Will?" she asked, wondering just how much of the past ten minutes of conversation he had heard and how much he already knew.

"Hey, you're up," he observed with a relieved smile. "How you feeling, Jenny?" he asked.

"Fine," she replied with a small smile of her own.

"Yeah, I told your kid you'd be fine," he said with the barest hint of acridity in his words; and Jenny drew in a sharp intake of breath.

"Thanks," she murmured with a wary look; and he nodded pressing his lips together.

"Right, well you're mother-in-law called looking for Gibbs," he started; but Jenny cut him off.

"She's not my mother-in-law," Jenny objected wearily, rubbing her eyes. She didn't have the energy for an argument with Will. She was merely putting on a smiling face for Kelly.

"Oh, no, I'm just her grandmother," Joanne added, pointing to Kelly as her gaze traveled to Jenny with concern.

Jenny felt her gaze and looked up with a weak smile.

Jenny and Joanne had both accepted that the other was going to be a large part of Kelly's life; and had grown to have a mutual and cordial respect for each other, even like. Lately they might even consider each other friends—that was a bit far—very close acquaintances who cared for and trusted one another. Nonetheless, they would not have it mistaken that they were related.

Will looked between the two of them, a little thrown off by the flippant way they outright dismissed each other without realizing it. Or maybe they did, he didn't know. He just knew that his head was starting to hurt from all of this.

_Gibbs_ and _Shepard had an eight year old kid. So Gibbs had known Jenny since she was twenty-two or twenty-three. Maybe earlier than that because apparently they'd had time to knock boots and have a mini-Gibbs pop out. How old was Gibbs anyway?_

"Damn, Jenny," Will laughed, forgetting about the impressionable young girl in the room. "Do you just go looking for trouble or somethin'?"

"It finds me," she quipped back with a teasing smile.

"Yeah, well, I'm glad you're okay," he said, tossing his empty coffee cup into the trashcan. "Cute kid," he praised, nodding in Kelly's direction. "I'm gonna get back to the office. Burley's probably about to die. He's on his own over there, probably has the Director breathing down his neck."

"Will."

"Decker!"

Jenny and Gibbs both called after him at the same time.

"Look, I won't say anything, okay?" he assured them fiercely, knowing full well what they were both thinking. "I don't know the story, it's your business; but we work together. Me and Stan deserve better than that. You should've told us. Jenny, you know you're like my kid sister; but you never should have been on Gibbs team in the first place." He paused and shook his head. "Look, feel better alright?" he muttered, yanking the curtain open; and the remaining occupants of the room were left stunned into shocked silence when as he strode out, brushing the curtain with his shoulder, leaving it swaying in his wake.

* * *

**_Announcements:_**

_**1**. I finally managed to get a tumblr for when you guys think I'm being a complete jerk for not updating soon enough. I'll be posting snippets of the next chapter as I get through them and pretty much anything to do with my FF. I already have actually. So if that makes you happy and all that jazz then go to " semantics-are-everything" on tumblr, (FF is obnoxious and won't let me put links in) or you can go to my profile. It's there as well._

_**2.** Apparently the word moderation is not in my vocabulary because I also decided to finally try the latest jibbsfest (strawberries & cream, measuring tape, semaphore, and E.R. I believe). Just a heads up in case you care lol._

_and_

_**3.** Thanks for reading. I am hugging you all in my mind right now *Abby smile* and as always your thoughts on this chapter are greatly appreciated :)_

_xxxx-Monkeys :]_


	11. Chapter 11

_I haven't done shout outs in a while :( I'm slacking! _

_josiemausconn,Chatter in the Monkey Mind ,sunshineforever13,ladybugsmomma,ncisgirl2389,AzNe Rd,TeamCarlisleandEsme8,alix33 , everyone I've been missing, and the Guest reviewer too :) you guys make my day. All of you, you're so sweet._

_A/n: If everything goes according to plan I'll have two more chapters (maybe three) and an epilogue to write. This has turned into such a fun story to do and you guys made it that way so thank you._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

The sun had long since set, and Kelly was upstairs on the phone with Maddie while Jenny and Gibbs stood in the basement.

For all Jethro's ordering and glaring threats Jenny had outright refused to miss any more than one day of work, and it was what had sparked the argument that had now turned to who knew about Kelly.

"You're the one who wanted to keep this whole thing under wraps, Jen," he reminded her, glancing up at her with a raised brow through the slats in his boat as he sanded a particularly rough spot.

Jenny sighed, tired of arguing for once as her down-cut gaze traveled over the boat under nothing more than the light of the dim workbench bulb.

"How long are you going to take on this boat?" she asked, veering off topic and ran her hand along the frame only to snatch it back with a hiss. "Damn," she muttered, pinching her finger where a rather large splinter had imbedded itself there.

Jethro looked up at her with accustomed inquiry before he climbed out of the shell of the boat. He held his hand out for hers; and narrowed his eyes slightly when she held her hand to her chest childishly. He reached out and grabbed her wrist toward him, causing her to step forward to keep from stumbling.

Gibbs took a look at the sliver of wood stuck in her pointer finger and sighed, tugging her up the basement stairs by her wrist.

"I am not a child, Jethro," she protested; but he ignored her, sitting her on the couch while he went upstairs to look for a pair of tweezers and some antiseptic.

"Kelly, get off the phone," Jethro said as he passed by her open door without looking in.

"Five more minutes, Daddy, please?" Kelly begged, trying for her best puppy-dog eyes; but they had no effect as he was already up the hall.

"Gave you fifteen more minutes," he called back. "Off."

He heard her grumble, but was satisfied to hear her telling Maddie good-bye.

When he jogged back down the steps; he glared at what he found. Jenny sat where he had left her, but she had her purse in front of her and her knee propped up with her finger resting there while she tried to get the splinter out with a pair of tiny tweezers. He yanked her hand toward him.

"Before you hurt yourself," he muttered with condescension, and she glared; but complied nonetheless and handed him her glasses.

He had always wondered how bugs, immunizations, and splinters turned her into a child; but she could take a gun-shot or a blow to the face like a very large man.

She watched him in silence a moment, her gaze flitting from her finger to his face and back again before she sighed heavily and spoke.

"It's ridiculous, Jethro," she said, picking up their previous conversation.

"What?" he asked, yanking the splinter out of her finger with her none the wiser. "The size of this thing?" he asked.

"Trying to hide this," she snapped, unamused with his quip. "Trying to hide her. Ducky knows, Decker knows. How long before Burley knows or the Director?"

"You don't trust 'em?" he asked, sitting back; and she looked down at her finger where the only indication of the splinter was a small spot of red blood in its place.

"Thank you," she murmured gratefully with a small smile; and he grunted in response. She sucked on her finger and wiped it on her jeans before she kicked her feet up onto his lap. "I don't know," she admitted, leaning her side against the back of the couch and allowing her cheek to rest there as well. "I had my reasons for not telling them in the first place. We had our reasons," she amended.

"Yeah," he agreed with a curt nod, leaning back himself so that his head rested against the back of the couch before he turned to look at her. "Protecting your career."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded reproachfully, sitting up straight with her brows furrowed defensively.

"What it means," he said simply with a shrug. He sat forward slowly with skeptically raised brows when the wrinkle between her brows deepened. "We've been foolin' ourselves Jen," he persisted. "We're not keeping her a secret for her, Jenny. Hell, we never were."

"And that's my fault," she deduced, her voice rising, piecing his thoughts together; and she swung her feet out of his lap, folding her legs up to her chest. "It isn't like I made that decision on my own, Jethro. You agreed with me."

"What'd you want me to tell you, Jen?" he demanded expectantly. "You wanted this career; and you're damn good at it. You make sacrifices sometimes."

"Not her, Jethro," Jenny said, getting up off of the chair to stand in front of him with her arms crossed and a hard glare on her face. "If you thought it was such a bad idea, you should've said something."

"She's not suffering for it, Jen," he shot back, looking up at her in disbelief. "No one's sacrificing her," he half scoffed-half laughed at the absurdity of her words. "But we didn't keep her from everyone to protect her." He shrugged. "No use pretending we were."

Jethro watched her pucker her lips before she sucked her bottom lip back between her teeth the way she did when she was thinking and slid it back and forth. She crossed her arms under her bust-line and started pacing with slow steps.

"If they knew about her, she could come in with us if she felt like it," she pointed out, meeting his gaze as the simplicity of the realization dawned her.

"Kids bounce back. Parents go to work all the time. She gets it. She'll be fine," he assured her. "You worry too much."

"You don't worry enough," she snapped back hotly. "You forget that my father was Army, Jethro. I know what it's like to be young and worry you'll never see your father again or worse yet you'll forget him. I know what it's like to accept the fact that you won't see your father for a year or more. I also know what it's like to know for a fact that your mother does forget about you."

"I don't forget, Jen," he sighed, rubbing his hand down his face before letting it rest on his chin. "She wants you here. You're a good mom."

It had always amazed him how quickly Jenny had managed to step into a mothering role and to a child that wasn't her own; especially since she once confided in him that she had never wanted any.

"When you weren't here and she was younger, Jethro," Jenny sighed heavily, pushing her thick hair back off of her face wearily. "She would wake up terrified you were dead and never coming back. I never wanted her to feel that way about me."

"She doesn't, Jen. You're here. You come home every night just like you used to."

"What does it matter if she isn't awake to see me come home half of the time?" she demanded, looking back at him with imploring green eyes as she paced. "I can come home and check on her; and know that she's safe but she goes to bed wondering if I am."

Jethro knit his brows. Jenny never lost it like this; not even when it came to Kelly. She didn't lose her head over things that could be explained away.

"Jen, what's wrong?" he sighed tiredly, leaning forward on his knees; and Jenny came to a stop in front of him.

"I don't want her to feel like I don't notice her or I forget about her, because that is the worst feeling in the world: to feel that your mother doesn't care," she whispered; and he swore he heard her voice break. "She misses her, Jethro," Jenny murmured finally with a look in her eyes he couldn't place.

"Who?" he demanded in agitated confusion.

"Shannon," Jenny said, her voice barely above a whisper; and he sat back, taken off guard by her name.

Jenny had always tiptoed around mentioning her because she knew that even after so many years it still hurt. Jethro had never wanted Jenny to be Shannon. He loved Jenny; but that had never stopped him from loving Shannon.

"I'm not her, Jethro," Jenny sighed, years-old insecurities bubbling to the surface once more. "I never even knew her."

"No one ever expected you to be her, Jenny," Jethro growled, the topic of discussion putting him on edge. "Kelly never knew her either," he reminded her tightly. "She can't miss her if she never knew her," he bit out harshly.

She ignored his tone and continued on.

"But you did," Jenny said, tugging her lip between her teeth again. "You did; and you miss her, Jethro. Kelly sees that."

He moved to his feet with a heavy sigh, shoving both hands back through his hair, wanting nothing more than to get away from the whole situation.

"Jesus, Jen," he muttered. They had this conversation years ago. "I didn't know she was going to die!" he barked. "One minute everything was fine, next thing I know I've got a dead wife." He paused, his blue eyes meeting her big, green ones. "Shannon—she didn't even hold her, Jen," he ground out through his teeth.

He didn't know how to make her see that. Jenny was always scared that the kid she had raised for years was going to wake up one morning wanting a dead woman; and Jethro never knew how to help her.

"Jethro," Jenny whispered, but he gave her a sharp look at the sympathy in her voice as if daring her to cry. "She looks just like her, Jethro. She acts like her. She's—I'm not her mother, not really. I've raised her since she was six months old, but I am _not_ her mother."

"You think I don't know how much she looks like her, Jenny?" he demanded lowly, moving so they were almost nose to nose. "You think I don't see how much she acts like her?" He stared hard into her eyes. "I know, Jen; better than you ever will; but you're her mom. Got a piece of paper to say so."

"What's a piece of paper?" she whispered, looking up at him with glassy eyes.

"What do you think a birth certificate is Jenny?" he sighed, standing to his full height as he took a step back from her. "I don't know what to tell you anymore, Jen," he admitted; and he didn't. The only true insecurity he had ever seen in her was Kelly; and that one insecurity was rampant. It consumed her sometimes.

"I can't help that I feel like I'm screwing her up, Jethro," she insisted fiercely. "Like Shannon would be doing a better job."

"You aren't screwing her up, Jen," he said.

"No?" she demanded, skeptically.

"_No_," he growled fiercely. "You ever met anyone who didn't like her?" he asked; and Jenny paused to think a moment.

Her silence was enough of an answer.

As if to further reiterate his point, Kelly came running down the steps and ran past Jenny and Jethro in a blur of pink and brown. The two of them shared a look at the sound of clattering glass and ceramic from the kitchen.

"Kelly?" Jenny called with wary curiosity, shaking off the lingering emotions from her and Jethro's argument at least for the time-being.

She set off in the girl's direction with Jethro behind her.

They found her at the back door crouched in front of a tiny little dog, placing what looked like a good sized piece of red meat in front of him/

"Is that my T-bone?" Jethro demanded lowly, narrowing his eyes at the frail looking animal tearing into the meat he had set in the fridge to tenderize for a good four hours already as Jenny grabbed Kelly away from the door despite the child's protests.

"What did I tell you about feeding strays, Kelly?" Jenny scolded, glancing briefly over Kelly's head at the tiny dog attacking the cut of meat. "It's dangerous. He could have all types of diseases."

"He doesn't," Kelly insisted adamantly, looking up at Jenny earnestly. "He's just hungry. Look at him," she said, pointing to the taupe colored animal. "He came to the door last week when you and Daddy had to go to work and Ms. Ellie wasn't here yet, so I gave him the rice you were going to throw away, and he kept coming back so now there's none left—"

"So you gave him the steak?" Jethro demanded louder than before, still glaring at the dog decimating it.

"Not all of them," Kelly insisted. "He's hungry, Daddy," Kelly reasoned yet again though a little quieter, shrinking into Jenny's grip a little.

Jethro looked at his daughter incredulously and then at Jenny who he was horrified to find had that look on her face: the look women got around babies without mothers and birds that fall out of trees. That sympathetic, glassy-eyed look where their shoulders slumped and their bottom lip stuck out just a little.

"Jen," he warned; and she looked up at him as her hands slipped off of Kelly's shoulders, and she made her way toward the puppy.

"Jethro, look at his face," she murmured, bending down to stroke the head of the shaking puppy with big brown eyes and a wet nose. The puppy leaned into her touch, indicating he hadn't been a stray long; and Jenny gave a little whimper of sympathy. She looked back up at Jethro and he was unsure whose eyes were bigger: Jenny's or the dog's.

"No," he said, already knowing what she was about to say.

"We can't just leave him out here, Jethro. It's raining," she reasoned. "He'll catch a cold. "Take off your shirt," she requested.

"You take off your shirt," he retorted childishly; and Jenny glared.

"Take off your shirt, or I'll never take mine off again," she bit out. She sighed begrudgingly and rolled her eyes. "Please."

He matched her glare and ignored the patronizing tone of her 'please'; but unbuttoned his plaid over-shirt nonetheless, leaving him in only a white t-shirt and handed it over to her. She gave him a little triumphant smile in thanks and he rolled his eyes as she wrapped the soaked little thing up in said shirt; and the dog gave a small bark.

"We'll get you cleaned up," she murmured; and the dog gave a yip of appreciation. "Yeah," Jenny cooed, with a smile; and turned to Kelly. "Go run the bath water," she said; and Kelly grinned gleefully as she ran off to do just as she was told. Jenny looked up at Jethro who was practically snarling at the little puppy in her arms. "Oh, I'll clean up," she sighed in exasperation.

"Now she's going to think she can start bringin' home strays again," Jethro muttered, glaring at Jenny soothing the small dog.

"He's probably lost," Jenny murmured, hugging the dog against her chest. "We won't keep him. We'll put up flyers tomorrow." Seeing that he was still unmoved, Jenny shoved the puppy in his face. "Look at him," she squealed; and Jethro did the most unexpected thing.

He sneezed.

Jenny yanked the dog back with a little jump; and looked at Jethro in surprise. In over eight years she had never heard the man so much as sniffle. She tilted her head to the side in mild curiosity before a slow smile spread across her face.

"Are you allergic to dogs, Jethro?" she asked.

"Not allergic to dogs," he insisted; and glared at the little monster who had devoured his dinner. "Never had an allergy. I'm allergic to _that_ dog," he said, pointing at it accusingly; and the puppy growled menacingly.

"Good dog," Jenny praised, stroking his wet fur with a grin; and Jethro glared at her.

"Put the flyers up tomorrow, Jenny," he said, and she scrunched her nose up at his retreating back as he left the kitchen before she turned to the puppy in her arms.

"He's just grumpy because you ate his steak," she murmured, rubbing the dog dry with Jethro's old shirt. "You're saving him from an early heart attack."

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"Mommy, is Daddy going to come live with us now?" Kelly asked, looking up at Jenny through long lashes with sleepy eyes as the redhead tucked her into bed about an hour later after they had gotten the puppy dry and put him to sleep.

Jenny paused and her face went blank, caught off guard by the question.

"What?" she asked sharply, before she shook her head, collecting her thoughts. "No," she said.

"Well, are we going to stay here all the time now?" Kelly persisted through a yawn; and Jenny leaned over with a sad mile, cupping the child's face.

"Go to sleep, Kelly," Jenny murmured. "We'll talk about it later, okay?"

Kelly yawned again, curling up on her side and hugged her pillow under her head, reaching out to grab Jenny's arm gently.

"Can you stay until I go to sleep?" she requested; and Jenny smiled, brushing Kelly's hair out of her face.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Scoot," she instructed, nudging Kelly playfully and Kelly giggled but slid over enough for Jenny to lay down.

Jenny wrapped her arms around her and Kelly snuggled into her embrace.

"Love you, Mommy," she mumbled sweetly, closing her eyes.

"I love you too," Jenny murmured and brushed her lips against the top of Kelly's forehead.

Jethro found them that way fifteen minutes later when he came to check on them. He smirked at seeing Kelly sleeping soundly with her mouth open and her cheek smushed against Jenny's shoulder while Jenny slept snoring softly with her chin resting on top of Kelly's head. He shut off the lights; and pulled the door closed, unknowingly pulling Jenny out of her slumber.

Jenny inhaled sharply; and looked around blearily at the dark room, realizing she had fallen asleep. She looked down at Kelly still sleeping; and did her best to slip her arm out from under the brunette without waking her. She tipped across the room silently and slipped out through the door.

She yawned as she padded down the hallway, pushing her heavy hair back away from her face. She knocked softly on Jethro's door, not knowing how long she had slept. When she received no answer she pushed the door open and snorted with derisive amusement at the decoration that was clearly Diane's doing. It was very white; and certainly more Diane than Jethro. It might not have been so bad had it not been for the overly frilly decorations here and there. Jenny was actually surprised because Diane was not a frilly woman—high maintenance, yes; but not frilly. The older redhead had clearly taken her things of importance though. There was no jewelry or makeup in the room from what Jenny could tell; and as she wandered around she noticed that only Jethro's clothes hung in the closet, yet, Jenny wore she could still smell the lingering scent of Dior's 'Tendre Poison' in the room.

Eventually she made her way down to the basement where she found Jethro lying under the boat with his eyes closed. She didn't know if he was actually sleeping or not. As always, she was met by the smell of sawdust and bourbon, though the bourbon was not so strong as it had once been.

"Jethro," she called loudly enough to wake him if he was in fact sleeping but not so loud as to startle him.

"Thought you were sleepin'," he grunted; and Jenny shrugged, leaning forward on the boat, resting her mouth on her crossed arms so that he was looking down at him.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she said. A thought struck her and a smirk graced her lips. "I _love_ what Diane did with the room," she said in mocking sarcasms with a dramatic eye-roll of admiration; and Jethro actually opened his eyes to glare at her skeptically before he shut them again.

"Why do you think I sleep under the boat," he muttered. "Damn pillows are enough to give you nightmares."

Jenny laughed.

"I should go," she murmured, pushing her weight back off of the boat. "I just didn't want you to think I had been kidnapped from your house in the middle of the night," she said with a teasing grin.

"Stay here, Jen," he said, his words slurred by sleep. "Take the bed."

"You don't sleep up there," she snorted. "What makes you think I want to have nightmares instead?" she quipped, but she didn't move: like she was waiting for him to come up with a solution to keep her there.

"Want me to sleep up there with you," he shot back dryly; and Jenny raised a brow.

"No," she said primly, propping one hand on her hip. "If your pillows turn into monsters I'll just shoot them myself." Jethro pushed himself up from under the boat with a groan. "Getting old, Jethro?" Jenny teased and squealed in surprise when he squatted to toss her over his shoulder.

"Not that old," he said; and she laughed breathlessly.

"Put me down," she demanded, smacking the small of his back in protest as he climbed the basement stairs. "I'm not a sack of potatoes. _Jethro_!"

Jethro tugged her forward so that she fell into his arms in a much more gallant and dignified manner. After years of carrying two hundred pound men through any God-forsaken terrain, she was literally like lifting a feather.

She looked up at him, batting her lashes several times and pursed her lips becomingly with one brow raised skeptically.

"It's a little early to be carrying me over the threshold don't you think?" she quipped, then paused in brief thought. "Or late."

"You're already over the threshold," he snorted, climbing the stairs to the upper level. "You get carried when you do more than sleep in the bed."

"Really? Because I'm feeling very Scarlet O'Hara, Rhett Buttler about this whole thing," she murmured with a smirk and a bedeviling twinkle in her eye as he pushed his bedroom door open with his foot. She shrieked when he unceremoniously dropped her onto the bed and she fell into an overabundance of pillows and bedding. He shushed her in reminder of the sleeping child two doors down. She pushed herself up with her arms behind her, her hair falling over her shoulders in waves created by her ponytail holder. "Your pillows are covered in petals," she snorted, fingering said petal before she tossed one of the pillows off of the bed. She looked back up at him through her lashes. "Jethro," she murmured in warning, recognizing the primal look in his eyes. "You'll wake her."

He knelt on the bed over her; and pushed her back onto the bed. She curled her leg up around his hip and arched into him involuntarily—almost instinctively.

"Don't you ever have a different excuse?" he demanded. It was always Kelly. Kelly would see him; or Kelly would miss him. "Kelly wants you to get knocked up," he muttered and she tossed her head back in laughter before she took in a sharp breath of surprise and her eyes darkened in both anger and arousal when he yanked her blouse open, sending several buttons flying onto the floor.

"Jethro!" she hissed; and he pressed his lips against hers to keep her quiet.

He yanked her bra aside and covered her breast with his mouth as the strap slid down her arm; and she arched into him.

"You can't just go around destroying all of my clothes," she protested breathlessly. "I won't have any left."

"I'll buy you new ones," he shot back, kissing her again and she moaned softly, relaxing into his arms.

"I can buy my own clothes," she mumbled against his lips, the feminist in her rearing its head. "You have to fix this room," she murmured, looking away from his face and around said room.

"You fix it," he retorted, telling her in a roundabout way that he wanted her to stay. He caught her bottom lip with his teeth before he slid down her body.

She tipped her head back and her eyes fluttered closed. Her throat moved when she swallowed; and she gasped and twisted the sheets in her fists.

"Arrogant bastard," she muttered and muffled a groan at the back of her throat.

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The low hum of an early morning at NCIS filled the air as sleepy-eyed agents filed in: some one by one, others in groups of two or three. The smell of last night's stale coffees and cold take-out assaulted the senses with its distinct and familiar odor.

"You look like you got laid, Red," Burley observed with a grin when Jenny walked into the bullpen, bringing with her a scent that was a mix of her spicy, oriental perfume and the strong cup of coffee in her hand. "Best medicine, huh?"

She merely smiled.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, tipping back in his chair to toss a ball of paper at his trashcan.

"My job," she replied smartly and raised her eyebrow at him with a smirk and a shrug as she took a sip from her cup. She perched herself on the edge of her desk.

"Jesus, who do you think you are, Wonder Woman?" he muttered, getting up to stick a file back in his filing cabinet. "Half thought you were dead two days ago," he said only partly joking.

"Cat Woman," she contradicted, pointing one red painted nail in his direction as she hopped off of her desk with a teasing grin and walked around behind it. "I've got nine lives."

Burley chuckled, dropping into his chair and looked up at her impishly, allowing his gaze to rake over her petite figure.

"Where's the leather jumpsuit?" he asked with a suggestive grin; and Jenny smirked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she retorted with raised brows and a secretive smirk as she took a seat behind her desk.

She leaned over to shove her purse in her bottom drawer and locked it up.

"So what, Gibbs is Batman?" Stan teased with a snort of amusement, drawing her attention again; and Jenny looked up with a grin before she sat back in her chair thoughtfully.

"Now, wouldn't that be scandalous?" she mused lightly, popping her brow at him and smiled slightly at the thought.

"You planning to run off and have some secret love child too, Shepard?" Decker volunteered as he walked in; and he held Jenny's gaze with the same festering animosity she had seen two days ago; and the carefree atmosphere was gone just like that.

Burley looked between the two of them with his brow wrinkled in confusion: Jenny looking to be hiding a guilty look of embarrassment in indignant hurt and Decker looking like he was about ready to throttle it out of her.

"You wake up on the wrong end of the bed, Will?" Jenny asked with her brow raised and lips pressed into a hard line of contempt. She twisted her red ponytail into a quick bun and pinned it with a pencil. "Hit your head?"

"Hey, what the hell is going on?" Burley demanded. He had never seen Jenny and Will in an argument. Jenny was Jenny; and she liked to fire off at the mouth, but Will was never really angry with her. They got along well. They always had.

"_Nothing_," Shepard and Decker both growled at the same time before they went to work.

"Grab your gear!" Gibbs called over the bullpen as he walked in, stopping only long enough to jerk his head back in the direction of the elevator before he turned on his heel again.

All three heads shot up before they sprung into action, running after him.

"What's the case, Boss?" Burley asked, Jenny and Decker still seething too much over their tiff to ask themselves.

Gibbs looked between Jenny and Decker briefly, sensing the tension between them in the rigid way they stood next to each other in the small space of the elevator.

"Couple of kids found a Navy Commander dead outside of a bar downtown," he said.

"How old are the kids?" Jenny asked with an edge to her voice that wasn't really directed at Gibbs.

"Twenty-one and seventeen," Gibbs answered, watching her for a minute: he noticed the tenseness in her shoulders, her rigid stance, and the sour purse to her lips. "Brothers."

Burley chuckled with fond remembrance.

"Old pass the ID back trick," he said; and everyone turned to look at him blankly. He quickly turned defensive. "Don't act like you never did it," he insisted.

"Didn't," Gibbs said honestly. He grew up in a small town. Everyone knew how old you were. Besides, if you really wanted alcohol it hadn't been all that hard to get it.

"I did," Jenny murmured with a smug smirk. "I was younger though; took it from my mother."

The atmosphere immediately and noticeably changed to one of awkward tension and sympathy before Jenny rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Tell me you aren't going to do this every time I mention my mother now," she sighed, with an upward glance at the elevator floors. The door opened on the ground floor; and Jenny stepped out first without waiting for a reply.

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The site of the crime scene was not a place where one expected to find a Navy Commander. The alleyway in which the Commander was found was far from clean. The tall buildings on either side of the bar resulted in only a small sliver of daylight managing to fight its way in which was just as well because even in the dim lighting the dirt and grime were obvious. The smell was just short of nauseating in itself: vomit, too much alcohol, and stale, dirty dish water—the smell of a decomposing body was no help either. The Commander's dark, red blood was spattered high across the trashcan he had been found beside.

"Jesus," Jenny muttered, pressing a hand against her stomach at the sight of the Commander's bludgeoned head. She turned away slightly as Ducky approached them with Sunny at his side.

"Oh, dear," he sighed heavily, taking in the crime scene himself.

"It's like ground beef," Sunny remarked in excited awe; and everyone turned to look at her incredulously. "Wrong thing to say?" she asked.

"_What is wrong with you_?" Burley asked, tilting his head to the side and scrunching his face up at the sheer force with which Sunny always managed to push aside social normality.

"My mother once told me she thought I was a cheerful sociopath," Sunny replied flippantly.

Burley blinked at her a few times, trying to discern if she was actually serious; and Jenny laughed.

"I will ask you to have some respect for the dead, Ms. Harris," Ducky said, peering up at her over his glasses as she squatted across from him.

"Yes, but I never knew him," she replied with the endearing and infuriating naivety that epitomized Sunshine Harris. She then spoke with what usually followed one of her naïve statements: a type of logic that few possessed and fewer would voice. "All he did was die. He could have been a perfectly horrible man for all we know. Would you have asked me to respect him then?" she challenged.

"Help me turn him?" Ducky requested, very used to Sunny's odd disposition; and she nodded.

"Nice shoes," she complimented Jenny pleasntly, looking at the slightly older woman's white trimmed black pumps.

"Thank…you," Jenny stumbled, caught off guard by the abrupt change in subject.

Even Gibbs smirked at that.

"Bag and tag everything," he said. "Shepard, with me. See what you can get out of the kids."

"Why me?" she demanded. She hated teenagers, especially the boys. The older ones always thought they were adults, but they were too immature to actually act like one.

"You want to collect vomit instead?" he demanded, his gaze drifting to the offsetting coffee-colored mess that had obviously been someone's liquid lunch—maybe breakfast too; and she visibly paled.

"No," she decided as her stomach lurched just a little and she matched his stride as he headed around the front into the bar where the boys were waiting to be questioned.

"So what's the deal with you and Shepard?" Burley asked Will, as his camera flash illuminated the Commander's lifeless body in harsh, white light.

"I don't have a problem with Shepard," Decker growled testily, snapping a picture of the vomit behind the Commander's head.

Ducky and Sunny listened with subtle interest.

"Looked like you were about ready to rip her head off when you walked in this morning," Stan pushed, squatting beside the body to snap a few more up close shots before he stood to his feet.

"Let's just say you're not so crazy after all," Decker muttered; and Burley perked up.

"She _is _sleeping with Gibbs," he surmised with a giddy grin, still to overjoyed at being right to share Decker's animosity toward the redhead. "I knew it! No wonder he gives her whatever she wants."

"_No_, Burley," Decker growled honestly, walking away from Stan to grab the place cards he had forgotten in the truck, aware he had almost let something slip. As far as he knew, Jenny wasn't currently sleeping with Gibbs. No matter how angry he was, he had promised her.

"Then what the hell do you mean?" Stan demanded, trailing behind him like a dog after a bone and leaned against the white NCIS van while Decker rooted around for the cards.

"Nothing, Stan. Just drop it," Decker snapped; and Burley narrowed his eyes, affronted.

"Jesus, Shepard's right. You got your pants in a wad or something," he muttered, pushing off of the van and walked off back toward the crime scene.

Will sighed heavily and slammed the back door shut before following behind him.

"Can't I talk to the older one?" Jenny asked as she and Gibbs approached the boys.

The one who was clearly the oldest stood with an arrogant look of bored apathy on his face while the younger one tried to emulate his older brother but was too fidgety and the nervous fear in his eyes gave him away.

"No," Gibbs refused curtly and looked up from his notepad with a smug smirk. "Go be mothering or something."

Jenny sucked her teeth slowly, running her tongue over them.

"And just how _mothering_ do you think I would be if Kelly got caught using a fake ID to buy drinks?" she asked, raising a brow skeptically. Gibbs snorted, but nodded in the boys' direction nonetheless; and Jenny sighed resignedly. "What's his name?" she asked, crossing her arms expectantly.

"Younger one's Eric, older one's Robert. Last name's Ferris," he said; and Jenny nodded.

"Eric?" Jenny asked as she approached the boys, ignoring the appreciative, raking look the older one gave her as Eric looked up with twitchy nervousness.

"Hey, you don't have to tell her anything Ricky," the older brother jumped in, shaking off the local officer who reprimanded him sharply. "We don't have to say anything without a lawyer presence."

Jenny opened her mouth to speak to the younger boy, about to ignore the older one yet again until it dawned on her what he had said. She shut her mouth and turned to him with a funny look.

"What?" he demanded rudely; and she cocked a brow. "You don't say anything, Ricky," he said to his younger brother again.

"Robert?" Jenny asked with smug irritation and he looked her up and down developing a bit of wariness in his arrogant, viridian eyes. She liked him much better that way.

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Shut up," she said curtly and his face erupted in anger. "Shut. Up," she cut him off, holding up a hand before he could speak. "Before you say something else stupid it is 'without a lawyer _present_. You've already gotten your brother into enough trouble." She turned to Eric. "And you, you should search for better advisors."

"Hey—!" Robert started up again, but it was his brother who cut him off this time.

"Shut up, Rob," he sighed, looking up at his brother through his dark blonde blond bangs with the same green eyes.

"What?" Robert demanded harshly, screwing his face up in rage. "What did you say to me, you little shit?" he demanded, shoving his brother roughly in the shoulder.

"Hey!" Jenny barked, hoping to God she never bore any children and if she did that they weren't boys. "Agent Gibbs will speak to you," Jenny said to Robert, meeting Gibbs eyes in warning as he came over.

"You hear me, Ricky, don't-"

"Say anything," Jenny finished for him impatiently. "He gets it. We _all_ get it."

She waited until Gibbs and Robert were out of earshot before she gave the local officer a look in silent request that he leave them and she turned to Eric.

"Look, I'm not the locals, okay?" she said, taking a seat across from him at the little table he had been waiting at. "I don't care what you were doing here. I just want to know what you saw."

"Can you get me off for the ID?" he asked, giving her an anxious look. "And the drinking?"

"Depends what you can tell me," she replied.

"Look, I really didn't see anything, I swear," he insisted. "We just found the guy. Rob wanted to leave him, but I made him come back inside. We were leaving you know, I never would've gotten caught with the ID."

Jenny sat back in her chair with a sigh. She could tell that he was telling the truth. He seemed like a good enough kid.

"I'll see what I can do about the ID, alright?" she said, moving to her feet, shocked when he did the same. "I can't promise anything though." She gave him a small smile. "Just learn that your brother probably doesn't have the best ideas, okay?"

"Yeah," he laughed nervously. "Thank you Ma'am-Miss-_Agent_ Shepard," he decided finally; and she laughed.

"You're welcome," she murmured before waving the local police officer back over.

Gibbs was still talking to the older one when Jenny caught sight of Decker. She approached him expecting a snarky attitude to keep herself from being taken off guard.

"Done playing favorite?" he asked bitingly and she was taken off guard nonetheless.

"What is your problem?" she snapped lowly, well aware that she needed to at least keep up the appearances of being professional.

"You know what my problem is," he shot back. "You have a _kid_ with _Gibbs_. No wonder he gives you whatever the hell you want. Wouldn't be surprised if you were fucking him now too," he spat harshly; and Jenny's face flamed red. She flexed her hand, itching to slap him across the cheek, but she restrained herself.

"If and when I fuck him is _my_ damn business," she growled instead. "He doesn't give me special treatment and you know it. You never would have suggested that before Saturday. The only reason Burley says it is because he wants to be Gibbs' favorite. I am the mother of his child, Will," she said lifting her chin, her green eyes flashing. "He sure as hell better treat me well; but he lets me have it when I deserve it and you know that." She paused, letting her words sink in a moment before she brushed past him, knocking his arm purposely. She turned back to him abruptly, looking around the room quickly to make sure they hadn't drawn any unwanted attention before she covered the few feet between them again. "_This_, you acting like this makes me sure that I made _exactly_ the right decision," she snapped. "You're a prick; and you don't deserve to know," she said, glancing up over his shoulder as Gibbs approached them.

She took several steps back, swallowing thickly.

Gibbs took in Jenny's flushed skin and still dark, green eyes. She had been arguing. He looked at Will's guilt-stricken face; and put two-and-two together.

"You good here?" was all he asked.

"Fine," Jenny growled; and Decker nodded curtly.

"Finish processing the scene," Gibbs ordered. "Shepard, with me. We're going to talk to the widow."

He wasn't giving her special treatment. He merely knew that she was just better at being properly sympathetic than he was. She was better than Burley and Decker too. Their first instinct was to use brawn to get things out of perps and suspects. Hers was to use brains."

"You got an address?" she asked, and he glared mildly at her.

"No, we'll just drive around and hope we get the right house," he shot back sarcastically.

"Cute," she murmured, sarcastically with a tight, brief smile. "Very funny."

"Yeah, I thought so," he said with a smug smirk as they turned away from Decker and headed for the door.

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When Jenny and Gibbs returned to NCIS, Burley and Decker were already there throwing around ideas with a mental map of the crime scene on the whiteboard in the middle of the floor.

"You get that evidence to Hodges?" Gibbs asked, whipping his jacket off and onto his chair before he walked to stand beside them and took a long sip out of his disposable coffee cup, narrowing his eyes at the board.

"Yeah," Burley replied with his arms crossed and leaning back on his heels with his shoulders hunched, sparing Gibbs a brief glance before he went back to staring at the board.

"You get anything out of the widow?" Decker asked, the chip on his shoulder seemingly filled.

"Just a grieving widow," Jenny interjected, sauntering across the room at a slow gait until she came to stand beside the rest of them. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked, thrusting her hand out at the mess of a board.

There were so many pictures and scribbles and markings it looked like a collage that a three-year-old had gotten their hands on.

"Brainstorming," Burley shot back; and Jenny raised a brow skeptically.

"And?" she prompted, her gaze traveling over the board, trying to decipher their thought process.

"We're waiting on the DNA from the puke behind his head," Burley said, pointing to what Jenny assumed was supposed to be a question mark on the board. "Then we find him. He's our best suspect."

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By the time Gibbs let them go it was a little past 18:30. Most of the agents were still there and the fiery, golden light of sunset still peeked over the horizon, not yet smothered by the indigo blanket of dusk that was slowly setting in. It was a relatively early night for them, but there wasn't much more they could do but wait for DNA on the case. It was literally their only lead.

Gibbs was downstairs in autopsy with Ducky, and Stan had moved so fast he seemed to disappear into thin air the minute Gibbs told them to go; that left Jenny and Decker alone in the bullpen.

Jenny pulled her jacket on with hurried but graceful movements and leaned over just enough to grab her purse out of her chair. She slung it over her shoulder and switched off her desk lamp.

Decker looked up at her as she rounded the corner of her desk.

"Late for a date?" he teased apprehensively; and she stopped in the space between their desks.

"Are we being civil now?" she murmured, raising a brow with her biting barb. Will sighed in exasperation. He was clearly making an effort. "Ballet practice," Jenny replied tightly with her arms crossed under her bust.

"She any good?" Decker asked, sitting back in his chair.

"Yeah, really good," Jenny answered simply. There was a brief but poignant silence before Jenny spoke again. "I'll see you later, Will," she said, taking a step back.

Will nodded; and Jenny turned on her heel, shaking her hair free of the bun it had been in all day as she approached the elevator.

He watched her jab the down button on the wall and tap her foot impatiently until the doors opened with the customary _ping_ and she smiled warmly, clearly greeting someone who was already on the elevator as she stepped in.

Decker tapped his pencil on the table for a minute, chewing his lip in thought before he leaned forward with a heavy sigh. Will knew he had messed up. Gibbs treated Jenny like he would treat any female in the workplace; and Will had been out of line to bring any issue he thought he had with her into work.

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Jenny slipped into the ballet studio where Kelly practiced four days a week about ten minutes before the end of her lesson. Jenny spotted her immediately in the sea of dark buns, pink tights, and black leotards. Kelly had inherited Shannon's waifish figure, Jethro's stubborn determination, and she had learned Jenny's tolerance for discomfort. As a result she was an exceptional dancer. She carried herself with a grace rare in someone so young and held her head high with genuine pride without appearing arrogant.

Jenny watched her turn across the floor with quick poise before she held her finishing pose with a close-lipped little smile. Kelly's teacher gave her several critiques, motioning the correct form herself before she smiled and offered Kelly praise. Kelly grinned proudly before her teacher had them line up for leaps.

It was at this point that Kelly caught sight of Jenny and her face lit up in another grin. Jenny smiled and waved her fingers inconspicuously so as not to draw attention to herself and to give Kelly no reason for distraction.

Once the girls had spoken with their teacher as they always did after class, Kelly ran to Jenny with an excited look in her bright, blue eyes.

"You came," she said cheerfully turning around so that Jenny could help her into her jacket. "You saw me?" Kelly asked with a pleased smile.

"I did," Jenny said, tugging the grey jacket closed with an indulgent smile and looked up as Ellen gave her a quick wave and a smile as she ushered Maddie out the door, clearly in a rush to get somewhere. Jenny returned the smile and turned at the sound of a slightly French accented voice.

"Excuse me."

Madame Genevieve Moreau was a very French beauty with large, dark eyes framed by thick, black lashes and hair that was just as dark; both were a striking contrast to her milky complexion. She had a relatively round face that narrowed into a pert little chin, making her look much younger than her forty years. She was lithe-bodied and graceful as was expected of a ballerina; and that only made her voice that much more unexpected. It was husky and hoarse with only the barest of French accents.

"Mrs. Gibbs?" she asked, holding out a delicate hand for Jenny to shake. "Genevieve Moreau. I believe we met on one occasion."

"Shepard," Jenny corrected as she took the offered hand.

"Ah," Genevieve murmured tilting her head in apology. "My apologies. I simply wanted to tell you that you have a very talented daughter," she said, smiling down at Kelly before looking back up at Jenny.

Kelly's cheeks flushed an endearing pink; and Jenny smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

"I expect her to go far and I'm only hard on her because of it," Genevieve said, knocking Kelly's chin up affectionately with her finger. "It was lovely to see you again, Ms. Shepard. You'll be at our end of summer recital?" she asked hopefully, already turning away when Jenny nodded. She smiled and gave the two of them a little wave as she moved to speak with a few of the other lingering students. "Wonderful. See you on Wednesday, Kelly."

Jenny's phone rang on her hip and she un-clipped it, holding it to her ear.

"Shepard," she answered in her customary, curt, professional tone as she nudged Kelly ahead of her out the door. "No," she snapped. "Where are you?" she demanded; and Kelly looked up with curiosity. "I'm on the other side of town, Stan. Call one of your girlfriends." She sighed and rolled her eyes as she opened the door for Kelly to slide in. She laughed despite herself. "No I don't care that you're scared of the dark," she said as she slid into her own seat. "I'm not driving all the way over there to get you so you can complain about leaving your precious car on the side of the road." She stuck her key in the ignition while Stan said something. "I hate cherries, Burley. You have beautiful legs, Stan," she teased. "Just hitch a ride," she suggested. "What do you mean it's raining?" she snapped, looking out of her window up into the starry, night sky. "That's what tow trucks are for, Stan." Jenny smirked. "Of course I love you Stan," she murmured patronizingly. "I just love my sanity more."

"Who's that?" Kelly asked as Jenny tossed her phone into the front seat; and Jenny looked up into the rearview mirror.

"Somebody I work with," she replied, turning into her Georgetown driveway, narrowing her eyes at the familiar car parked on the street-just why it was familiar she couldn't yet place.

"What happened?" Kelly inquired.

"His car broke down," Jenny said distractedly, getting out of the car. At that moment Jenny realized why the car was so familiar as it's owner stepped out with a blinding grin on her face; and dread settled in Jenny' chest. "Do I have a sign over my house saying 'Late Night Unexpected Guests Welcome' or something?" she thought to herself as her sister approached her.

"Surprise," Heather said, tipping up the driveway so as not to wake the sleeping three-year old in her arms.

"Surprise is right," Jenny replied with raised brows. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I know I should have called," Heather said apologetically and Jenny quickly saw the harried appearance beneath her charming facade. "It's been a long night, Jenny. My phone died. There was a problem with the hotel. They don't even have my room. They don't have _any_ rooms. I've been flying all day. I didn't know where else to go."

"Come on," Jenny sighed begrudgingly. She hadn't even known Heather was in Washington. She wouldn't have cared all that much even if she did.

What she wanted to do was tell her trouble-causing little sister and her monster of a child to go find another hotel; but Kelly was standing there watching her and she was therefore obligated to be a good person.

"Oh, Kelly you've gotten so big," Heather whispered with a kind smile as she followed Jenny up the walkway, passing Kelly as they went. The last time she had seen her had been two years ago.

"Hi, Aunt Heather," Kelly said with a genuine smile. Jenny had always envied and admired Kelly's ability to see the best in people. She didn't know if it was simply a childhood trait or if she would carry it with her for the rest of her life.

"Jethro!" Jenny called out as she walked into the house, knowing Noemi might have let him in.

"Oh God, Jenny, you aren't-" Heather started with defeated concern and disapproval in her eyes; but Jenny cut her off.

"It's none of your business, Heather," Jenny snapped tersely; and Heather licked her lips as Noemi rounded the corner with a smug smirk on her face.

"Your fu-" the Latina stopped, catching sight of Kelly and Heather beside a panick-stricken Jenny. "He isn't here," she said quickly.

"Noemi, put Heather and the baby in the guest room would you?" Jenny sighed, already working on a headache.

"Noemi," Heather greeted Noemi pleasantly; and Noemi smiled, sending Jenny a knowing look.

Noemi knew just how much Jenny thought her sister was an annoying little twit. She also knew just how much Heather had absolutely no idea what her sister thought of her. Regardless, Jenny had her debts to her sister; and she never forgot them.

"I'll take him for you," Noemi offered, and Jenny's head popped up with an indignant look on her face.

"You will not," she snapped, giving Noemi a pointed look; and Heather looked at her sister in confusion before she waved Noemi off.

"It's fine, I can carry him," she said, heading up the stairs; and Noemi sent Jenny an annoyed look before going after her.

"Kelly, take your bath. Get ready for bed," Jenny said, grabbing the back of her neck to soothe the ache there.

"Can you tell Daddy to bring me my slippers when he comes?" Kelly asked.

"Your father isn't coming tonight," Jenny told her; and Kelly gave her a knowing look that reminded Jenny disturbingly of herself.

"He's coming," it said.

"Well, if he comes," Kelly amended anyway.

"Yes," Jenny said to appease her; and Kelly smiled gratefully before taking off up the stairs to do as Jenny had asked her.

Jenny laid down on the couch and threw her face into one of the throw pillows with a groan.

Why? Why was it always her? _Jenny _always had some misfortune on every case. _Jenny_ was the one with a nine-year old by her boss. _Jenny _was the one who had every dirty family secret in the book; and _Jenny_ was the one who was sleeping with Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

As if God himself were watching for ways to make her life worse, the doorbell rang.

"Go away!" she yelled at the door.

"Jen!" Jethro's voice drifted through the door; and Jenny growled.

"Go away!" she snapped again even as she dragged herself off of the couch to answer the door. She stopped and stared at the door when she heard the sound of the lock turning before the door swung open and Jethro stood in her foyer. "How did you get in here?" she demanded, eyeing the small, gold key in his hand. He held it up and she glared at him. "Clearly, Jethro," she shot back. "You haven't taken to kicking in doors yet. How did you get a key?"

"On top of the door," he said, holding it out to her; and she narrowed her eyes at him as she snatched it from him.

"If you've known all along where it was, why didn't you jut use it?" she asked. He shrugged silently. He had been respecting her space. He knew where it was in case of emergency, but he also knew that she would have given him a key had she wanted him to have one. "Heather is here," she said; and he raised a brow at that.

Heather _hated_ Jethro. She couldn't stand to share air with him. After everything between Jethro and Jenny, Heather had told her sister that if she ever saw Jethro again she would kill him. Jenny had no doubt she would follow through. Heather may have been a flighty, obnoxious little thing; but he had a temper to rival Jenny's when provoked.

Both Jenny and Jethro looked up at the quiet call of Jenny's name; and Jenny rolled her eyes when her sister stopped in the archway upon seeing Jethro. Heather's face morphed into an expression of bubbling ire; and Jenny swore her face was twitching.

"What is he doing here?" Heather demanded lowly. Jenny moved quickly, dragging her sister by the arm into the kitchen with her. "What is that bastard doing in this house?" Heather hissed.

"His daughter is in this house," Jenny reminded her pointedly; and Heather scoffed.

"I always told you, you should have just taken-!"

"Don't go there with me, Heather," Jenny snapped quickly. "This is my house. You are a guest; and you will keep your opinions to yourself."

Heather laughed mirthlessly, running her tongue over her bottom lip.

"You always did know how to pick them, Jenny," she bit back. "Don't expect me to pick up the pieces this time," she warned harshly, and stormed past her elder sister.

It took all of thirty seconds before the sound of shattering glass reached Jenny's ears; and she growled, tearing out of the kitchen.

"Heather!" she barked with wide eyes. "Have you lost what little mind you ever had?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes. She looked down at the shattered vase by Jethro's feet. Despite her quick temper, and penchant for throwing things Heather never had much aim; and as a result she often came off as nothing more than theatric.

"You didn't hear what he said to me," Heather snarled, glaring at Jethro like she was ready to maul him.

"And I'm sure I'd rather not hear what you said to provoke him," Jenny snapped, glancing up the stairs in the hopes that Kelly was still in the bath and Liam was still sleeping.

"Jesus, you are the perfect battered woman aren't you?" Heather shot back viciously. "Always standing by your man."

An angry flush erupted across Jenny's face and she brought her hand up as if to strike her sister; but she curled her fingers up instead before pointing toward the door.

"Get out," Jenny said simply with her eyes on the hardwood floor. If she looked at her sister's face she was afraid she might still hit her.

"You're always letting yourself get hurt Jenny," Heather sighed, anger lingering in her eyes. "You won't let anyone protect you."

Jenny looked up abruptly.

"I don't need protecting!" Jenny bit back fiercely, her green eyes flashing. "I don't need you to protect me from him."

"And the next time you do?" Heather demanded. "You're my family-"

"He is _my _family," Jenny growled. She set her shoulders back , feeling not for the first time in their adult lives that she was the younger sister. Heather may have no career and her actions might be driven on emotions rather than logic; but she had a husband who loved her and four children who adored her. And she was happy. Heather had always been happy. Jenny always hit every goal in her professional life like clockwork, but her personal life was constantly in shambles. "I don't care where you go, just get out. Liam can stay," she said, striding past her sister. "Clean up your mess before you go," she snarled.

Jethro looked at her with that infuriating, silent concern he was so damn good at.

"Don't look at me like that," Jenny snapped, turning on her heel and up the steps o that Jethro and Heather were left standing in her living room.

"You'll hurt her again," Heather said with confidence, though sadness rather than anger colored her voice. She bit her lip like Jenny did and shook her head warily. She laughed sardonically. "You probably won't even mean it, but you'll hurt her again and no one is going to be here for her." She looked at him with resentment. "God, you're a bastard," she whispered.

Jethro did the gentlemanly thing and left—more than anything because every once in a while he told himself exactly what Heather just had.

He tossed Kelly's slippers on the couch before he did, knowing she would want them.

"Tell my daughter I brought her slippers," he growled, and Heather spared him only the smallest thought that she was wrong before she turned up the stairs after her sister.

Heather walked onto the second floor in search of her sister, and was met by Kelly's young, dulcet singing voice coming from the bathroom. She found Jenny in the guest room, soothing Liam. Heather stood in the doorway when Jenny finally moved to her feet and caught sight of her.

"I thought I told you to leave," Jenny said, brushing past her. "Ten god damn minutes you were here," she muttered more to herself than Heather.

"All he's ever done is cause you pain, Jenny," Heather hissed, running behind her with her hair catching wind at the speed it took to keep up with Jenny.

"More insults?" Jenny laughed wryly.

"You didn't think you would let him hurt you the last time either, Jenny," Heather persisted.

"They are not the same people, Heather," Jenny snapped before she slammed her bedroom door in her sister's face.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Jenny walked into NCIS the following morning only Gibbs and Burley were there.

"Where's Will?" she asked, dropping her purse on her desk.

Jethro regarded her with a silent look of questioning concern; and she did her very best to ignore him.

"Maybe his car broke down, Red," Burley said. "He could be stranded, all alone-"

He stopped when Jenny's well aimed paper ball hit him in the forehead, and he grinned before chucking it half-heartedly back at her.

"Where are we on this case?" she asked as Will finally walked in. "There has to be something other than the DNA. It'll be a cold case before Hodges gets it to us if we wait on that."

"That's all we've got," Burley said, with a pleased grin on his face at the fact that he was in that moment able to balance a pencil on his nose.

Decker walked by and snatched it away.

"Go work at the circus instead then," he retorted at the beginnings of protest from Stan. "You said the widow was just a grieving widow?" he asked; and Jenny nodded. "There was nothing off about her? You didn't pick up on anything?"

"I said no, Will," Jenny snapped. "She was just a widow—an unwilling one. She didn't kill him."

Will paused only a minute at her attitude before he picked up again.

"I didn't say she killed him," he shot back. "Why don't you go back to see if she can tell you something else?" he suggested. "We're flying blind here," he muttered, looking over the same board they had been looking at since yesterday, hoping something might jump out at him.

"He's right," Gibbs said, getting out of his chair; and all three agents turned to look at him as he grabbed his coat. "Come on," he beckoned Jenny, waving his hand toward himself.

"You really think this is going to work?" she demanded skeptically.

"You have a better idea?" Gibbs shot back; and she pursed her lips as she grabbed her things. "Cool it," he said lowly enough that only she could hear.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Gibbs knocked on the Commander's door there was an odd silence before shuffling could be heard from inside and the Commander's widow opened the door.

There was something off about her, Jenny saw it this time—Jethro too.

"Agent Gibbs, Agent Shepard," the Commander's widow greeted them, crossing her arms and uncrossing them in an anxious way. She was jittery. "What can I do for you?"

"We've got a few more questions, Mrs. Tate," Gibbs said; and the blonde woman tucked her hair behind her ears anxiously before she nodded and stepped aside to allow them in.

"I thought I answered all of your questions the other day," Mrs. Tate, leading them into the living room as she had the day before.

Jenny watched Mrs. Tate silently, observing her actions. She had no reason to be anxious or nervous. Bothered or distressed, sure—but not anxious.

"May I use your bathroom?" Jenny asked suddenly; and Gibbs looked at her suspiciously while Lauren Tate looked at her in brief confusion, clearly caught off guard.

"Um…yeah, sure," Lauren sighed, nodding. "Down the hall on your left."

"Thank you," Jenny said, bowing her head slightly in thanks; and Lauren Tate nodded in acknowledgement before turning back to Gibbs as Jenny took her direction.

Lauren motioned for Gibbs to sit on the couch, and took her own seat on the armchair across from him.

"What is it you came to ask me about, Agent Gibbs?" she asked with a strained edge in her voice.

Gibbs watched her tap her thumb and middle finger together and he watched the way her eyes traveled to the clock every five seconds. He also noticed the fact that she looked a little too pulled together for a woman who had been told her husband was dead only a day ago.

"Are you late for something, Mrs. Tate?" he asked; and her she froze a second before she pasted a feigned sad smile on her face—but her lips were too tight over her teeth so that her distress shone through.

"I've got to make, uh, funeral arrangements," she lied quickly; and Gibbs narrowed his eyes slightly. An idiot could tell she was lying.

At that moment Jenny stepped back into the room, holding a large picture of a smiling, blonde-haired little boy in the air.

"Is this your son, Mrs. Tate?" Jenny asked knowingly; and Lauren licked her lips before rolling them inward.

She nodded with a shaky smile. She was clearly losing what little control she had.

"Where is he?" Jenny inquired, her gaze traveling from the picture of the boy to his mother.

"Daycare," Lauren lied again, though her voice was hoarser. "It's just much-" She took a breath. "-much easier that way. He doesn't understand."

"How old is he?" Jenny asked and Lauren pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Three," Lauren said, her voice barely above a whisper and strangled by the tears that shone in her eyes.

"Mrs. Tate, where is your son?" Jenny asked again. "He isn't at daycare."

Lauren gave a little cry of anguish at the back of her throat.

"I can't," she whispered hysterically. "They said no authorities. They'll kill him like they killed Tom."

"Who?" Gibbs pressed as the case started to unfold.

"I don't know!" Lauren cried, looking up at him as her poorly placed façade crumbled. "I don't know who they are. All I know is they took my son and they killed my husband. Tom told me he knew what they wanted; and he left yesterday. Then, you were at my door telling me he was dead."

"When was your son taken?" Jenny asked urgently; and Lauren shrugged helplessly.

"Yesterday. He was playing outside in the back. I left the window for a second and he was gone. Before I had five minutes to call the police I got a phone call from that man," she bit out, her face turning red at the fervor he spoke with.

"What did he say?" Jethro demanded.

"He said he wanted what he was owed; and if he didn't get it, we'd never get our son. He told me not to call the police or he would slit Sean's throat." She covered her mouth with her hand as the picture of her son dead on the floor of some dirty warehouse made her blood run cold. "I called Tom; and he came straight home. He told me that he knew what they wanted, that he would take care of it."

"He called you back," Gibbs interjected in reference to whoever had taken Sean Tate, knowing that was the case. That was why she wouldn't top looking at the clock. "Where did he tell you to meet him?"

Lauren hesitated, wondering only briefly how he knew about the call before she spoke.

"At the vacant store behind the McDonald's on 32nd."

"When?" Jenny urged, already pulling out her phone to call Decker.

"12:30," Lauren said; and Jenny and Gibbs looked at the clock.

It was 12:15. The empty building Lauren spoke of was at least thirty minutes away even if Gibbs _was_ driving.

"Decker," Jenny snapped into her phone, all but running from the house as tried to convince Lauren that it was better to let them handle things, that she should stay there. "I don't know, call SWAT. Call everyone. It's a hostage situation. The hostage is three years old," she barked, jumping into the car.

"No," Gibbs snapped quickly, sliding into the driver's seat. "We don't want to spook him. Tell Decker I said we go in quiet."

Jenny relayed the message as Gibbs hit the gas; and the car lurched forward with a roar from the engine.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was 12:31 when they made it to the empty store. There was a FOR RENT sign in the window but no sign of a child or the unnamed man.

"He isn't here," Jenny said.

"He's here," Gibbs said with confidence, getting out of the car as Decker approached them.

"Burley's on the roof with SWAT. No sign of the kid yet or the guy," Decker said.

"How do you want to do this?" Jenny asked as Decker handed them each earpieces and radios; and all eyes were on Gibbs as he scanned the scene.

"We're late," Gibbs said, flicking his wrist out to look at his watch. "We don't have time to plan this out."

"So, what, we make it up as we go?" Jenny demanded with a sardonic snort.

"Yeah," Gibbs said; and her face fell.

"Gibbs, you can't be serious?" she hissed.

"You got any better ideas, Shepard?" he demanded. He was asking that a lot today. She kept her mouth shut. He nodded curtly, and drew his gun. Jenny took a deep breath and a wave of skepticism crossed her face, but she did the same. "Decker, take the side. Shepard, back. I'll take the front."

"The old divide and conquer?" Jenny said with a smirk; and Gibbs nodded.

"Do what you have to," he said.

Jenny moved stealthily, but quickly through the empty building. She stepped around corners with her gun drawn. There weren't that many places to hide. They had been in there two minutes already; and she got no radio from either Decker or Gibbs.

"They aren't here," she thought, and voiced that into her wrist with her gun still pointed out in front of her.

She moved around the last corner at the back of the building; and she was immediately proven wrong.

"He's here," Gibbs said tensely for the second time in the past ten minutes as fear crept into Jenny's eyes at the situation before her.

Gibbs stood there in the chokehold of a very large man—probably military with a gun to the back of his head. Jenny suspected the only thing stopping him from making any sudden or risky decisions was the blonde-haired, brown-eyed little boy in the man's other arm.

"Sean," Jenny murmured soothingly to the red-faced little boy. "It'll be alright, okay? We'll get you to your mom."

"Shut up!" the gunman barked. "I told that stupid bitch no cops."

"What do you want?" Jenny asked calmly. "You took him for a reason. We can get that for you."

"You don't have what I want," the gunman sneered.

"Shoot him!" Gibbs barked; and Jenny's hands tightened around her gun.

The gunman pressed the barrel of the gun harder into Gibbs' skull; and Jenny's jaw tightened. _Where the hell was Decker?_

"I swear to God I'll blow his brains out," the gunman promised; and Sean started to whimper. The gunman shook him violently. "Shut up," he growled. He watched Jenny struggling to make a decision. Gibbs watched her too. "You'll only save one of them. Don't try to play hero."

"Jesus, Shepard, shoot him!" Gibbs barked again, this time angrier.

"Shut up!" Jenny snapped as her features screwed up in concentration. She didn't have a clear shot. Either she would shoot Gibbs or she would shoot that little boy. He was right, she couldn't save both of them—not from that angle.

"Jen, shoot him," Gibbs said, giving her the go-ahead. He could see where she was standing. He knew what her choices were.

"Jethro, shut up," Jenny growled, feeling the burn of angry tears in her eyes. It wasn't his choice to make. Just because he told her to do it didn't mean she could just up and end his life. She should have been able to make that choice in an instant; but she couldn't.

She kept looking past the gunman, with the childish notion that Decker would show up and do it for her.

"Your other friend, he's taken care of. He's not coming to help," the gunman said; and Jenny panicked internally. She was green, much as she liked to puff out her chest and pretend she knew more than she did. She wasn't capable of making this decision regardless of her relationship with Gibbs.

Her finger hovered over the trigger; and she jumped as a gunshot echoed through the building. For all of five seconds she was sure she had taken the shot.

Gibbs grabbed for Sean as the boy screamed and the gunman fell.

Jenny looked down at the gunman with a bullet hole through his forehead, and she knew it wasn't her shot. There was no way she could have made that shot. She reacted on autopilot as Jethro simultaneously shoved the boy into her arms and took her gun without a word.

She shushed Sean in a soothing voice, comforting him as she watched Jethro check the gunman for a pulse out of habit before he helped Decker to his feet, clapping him on the back.

"Gibbs," Jenny murmured, biting the inside of her cheek when he brushed past her as if she had said nothing despite the hard look on his face.

When Burley met them on the ground ten minutes later, Decker stood with Gibbs rubbing the back of his head while Jenny sat with a still teary-eyed Sean as the paramedics checked him for injuries.

"It's weird Shepard's so good with kids isn't it?" Burley muttered more to himself than anyone. Nevertheless, Will and Gibbs shared a look. "She take the shot?" Burley asked. It had been a jumbled mess on his end after that gunshot went off.

"Decker took the shot," Gibbs growled resentfully. "Shepard _should've_ taken the shot."

"Cut her a break, boss," Decker started, trying to find something to say in her defense. That was what he decided on because everything else sounded even lamer than that one. Jenny should have taken the shot. She didn't; and Gibbs was spitting mad at her for it.

Gibbs said nothing, but glared at Decker for even thinking to come to her defense.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jenny and Gibbs stood in the hallway of George Washington Memorial Hospital outside of Sean Tate's room. The paramedics had found no injuries on Sean, deciding that he was just shaken up; but because of his age they had taken him to the hospital anyway. His mother had met them at the hospital and was in the room with him.

Decker was having his head looked at before Internal Affairs showed up like they did any time an officer fired his gun. Burley was back at NCIS trying to run damage control on it all.

The gunman had been a case of an irate ex-employee run amok. He had worked with the Commander at the Pentagon. The Commander had told a superior that he thought him, Eric McKenzie unstable. Apparently he had been jumpy and on edge. At first the Commander chalked it up to stress from the project, but after a psych evaluation confirmed his suspicions McKenzie was taken off the project. The Commander got the credit for developing cutting-edge military technology and McKenzie was told to take time off.

"Are you going to speak to me?" Jenny snapped finally after hours of silence. He hadn't said a _word_ and it was driving her insane.

When he finally looked at her, Jethro's eyes were full of ire and disappointment. Jenny turned her head under his glare.

"Would you have taken that shot?" he demanded, and Jenny looked back at him sharply. Her eyes flashed with her anger at her own uncertainty, and Jethro returned her anger in full. "Would you have taken that shot, Jenny?!" he barked.

"Did you expect me to?" she shot back with a quick temper.

"Yeah," he snapped harshly, invading her space. Even with her heels he still towered over her. "I expected you to take that shot. It's your _job_ to take that shot."

"How was I supposed to choose, Jethro?" she demanded, her voice catching on her words. She looked up into his eyes imploringly, and she had never seen so much resentment. "Tell me, how you expected me to choose between my kid and someone else's."

"It wasn't a choice between your kid and someone else's kid, Jenny," he growled dangerously. "You had to choose between a kid: a potential vic, and your partner."

"What's the difference?" she whispered.

"There's a difference, Jen," he spat. "There's a God damn difference. It should've been an easy decision."

"If the roles were reversed, you would have put a bullet through my heart without a second thought?" she demanded of him again, and his jaw tightened.

"This isn't about me, Jenny. Don't turn this on me," he warned, jabbing an angry finger at her. "You don't want to hear my answer."

At the look of horrified hurt on her face he thought to rephrase it, because he hadn't meant it how she took it. He meant the opposite, but he didn't take it back because it made a point.

"What did you expect me to do, Jethro?" she cried softly. "Did you expect me to take that shot and then go home to tell Kelly that I was solely responsible for her now because I took your life?"

"You have to be able to make that choice, Jen," he said, assuming an impersonal persona so quickly it frightened her. "Don't come back until you can. You're suspended until I decide different."

"And if I already made my choice?" she demanded.

His eyes darkened, and a shadow fell over his features.

"Change it," he snarled with a warning look. They couldn't go there.

"If I don't?" she pressed.

"Don't come back," he said coldly, opening the door to Sean Tate's hospital room.

The slam of the door seemed to echo down the otherwise empty hallway; and Jenny was standing there blinking away incensed tears, angry at herself—because she had let him back in, and he hurt her again.

* * *

A/n: L&O: SVU nostalgia anyone? :) Thanks for reading!

xoxo-Monkeys :]

Now tell me what you really think ;)


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